


Yesterday

by tamaracherice



Category: Supernatural
Genre: 9/11, Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Alternate Universe - Supernatural, Brother Feels, Character Death, Dean in Denial, Depression, Drunk Dean, Dysfunctional Family, F/M, Fatherly Bobby Singer, Fear, Gen, Grief/Mourning, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Jessica Moore Lives, John Winchester's Bad Parenting, Lawyer Sam Winchester, Loss, Loss of Faith, Married Dean, Near Death Experience, New York City, Past Child Abuse, September 11 Attacks, Terrorism, Violence, engaged sam
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-08
Updated: 2013-12-31
Packaged: 2017-12-18 04:01:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 13
Words: 37,786
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/875386
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tamaracherice/pseuds/tamaracherice
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Yesterday, all my troubles seemed so far away, now it looks as though they're here to stay. I believe in yesterday."</p><p>Dean and Sam Winchester have been on their own for most of their lives. After their mom died and their dad, too emotionally damaged and too drunk to function most of the time, left them for dead, Dean took on the responsibility of caring for his younger brother. It's his job. Since he was 11 years old, protecting Sammy was all he knew; it was his whole world. It only takes a day, one single moment, for it to all come crashing down. </p><p> </p><p>*Supernatural AU where Sam is a successful New York City business lawyer and Dean is a captain firefighter for the NYFD.*</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**_Tuesday September 11, 2001 3:00 am_ **

            Dean woke up before dawn on a Tuesday morning. His back was still sore from sleeping on the couch and his voice, still hoarse from last night's fight with Sam. It was unusually hot for September and his thin white t-shirt clung to his chest in the humidity.

A film of sweat covered his face and neck and continued on, all the way down to his belly button. He groaned as he swung his legs over the side of the couch to stand up, his muscles aching in response to the sudden movement.

The still silence of the apartment was interrupted when he stumbled clumsily over his own feet, knocking a lamp off the small table in front of the couch, wincing as it fell to the ground with a shattering crash.

Angry and in pain, he cursed and kicked the broken pieces of the lamp to the side and continued on his pursuit to the bathroom.

 "Babe are you okay out there?!" his wife Jo, called out from their bedroom, woken suddenly from the sound of breaking glass coming from the living room.

"Yeah, yeah I'm fine. Just go back to bed" he replied grumpily, grimacing at the shooting pains in his pinky toe.

For a man who risked his life and saved people from burning buildings for a living, it was shocking how much damage a tiny stubbed toe could do.

            This was all Sam's fault.

If he wasn't so damn selfish they wouldn't have fought and Dean wouldn't have had to get so wasted at the bar last night. He could've been sound asleep in his own damn bed right now. But instead, he was sleeping on the stiff living room couch and stubbing his toes on hard wooden tables.

It was all freaking Sam's fault.

 Dean pouted, and normally he would've been embarrassed about how childish he looked, but he was still grumbling angrily to himself about how selfish Sam had been.

Jo appeared hastily, leaning against their bedroom door frame and squinting, the light in the bathroom blaringly bright compared to the dark shadow of their room.

"What the hell happened out here, what was that loud crash?" she asked, eyeing Dean nervously.

"I just tripped and knocked over the lamp in the living room and it broke" he answered blandly, walking straight past her and into the bathroom, not even bothering to close the door behind him.

She followed him persistently, this time her approach more aggressive.

"What's gotten into you?"

She had her arms folded over her chest in the way she usually did when she was upset. It would be almost cute, if Dean wasn't so hung-over and angry. All he wanted was to pee in peace without her searing glare boring into his back.

"I'll fix it tomorrow after work okay?"

"That's not what I'm talking about" she stated, her face in an uncompromising expression.

Dean stood there, rolling his eyes at her and ignoring her question as he washed his hands.

            "Because I try so hard to work things out with you, I'm always here for you. I just want you to talk to me and you never do. You just-"

She stopped, taking a moment to take a deep breath.

"You just come home at all hours of the night and you won't talk to me! Is there someone else?" Her voice was shaking now and Dean didn't have to turn around to know that she was going to cry any minute now.

"Babe look, I'm sorry."

He placed his hands, large and calloused from work, on her cheeks, smooth and bright with a tinge of pink. She jerked her head back, away from his touch.

"I heard you come in, it was like 4 am! Why did you sleep on the couch instead of coming to bed with me?" she asked accusingly, her sadness turning quickly into rage.

Dean just stared back at her in disbelief. After all they've been through, he thought she'd give him more credit than that.

Jo was always weary of letting people in, and it took a lot to gain her trust, something Dean was still working on even after their two years of marriage. This sure as hell wasn't helping anything.

            "Sam and I got into a really bad fight last night about our dad. I came home drunk and an angry mess and I didn't want to bring you into the middle of it yet again so I slept on the couch so I wouldn't disturb you. I'm so sorry baby. Please don't be mad at me."

His hands took their place back on her cheeks and he stroked the soft skin with his thumb, grazing over her lips and jaw line, and this time she let his hands roam, closing her eyes and accepting his comforts.

"There is absolutely no one else. I love you Joanna Beth Harvelle, and no one else. Okay?"

She narrowed her eyes in suspicion, something she must have learned from her mother because—god—she looked just like her.

Dean couldn't help but chuckle at how cute she looked when she was mad, her arms folded so tightly over her chest, eyebrows furrowed and her lips pouted.

She was fighting to keep a straight face but eventually gave in to Dean's cheeky grin, turning away to hide her smile.

Not only were they husband and wife, but they were best friends. No matter what her insecurities were and what trust issues she had, or even how complicated Dean's family life might get, they would make it through anything.

            "I love you Jo-bear" he said following close behind her as she tried to walk away from him. He finally caught hold of her waist in his strong arms and turned her around to face him.

"I love you too Deany-poo" she cooed, kissing his lips playfully.

"Yeah, these nicknames have gotten out of hand now. I think you may have just stole my manhood with that one" he joked, looking down at her as she smiled up at him.

Something familiar and warm fluttered in his chest for a brief moment as time seemed to just stop, suspended in the air as they looked into each other's eyes.

"Whatever you say sugar muffin" she teased and broke free of his grip, sashaying back to where the couple slept and patted his side of the bed.

"Come to bed" she said and he more than happily complied, wrapping his arms tightly around her once again and pulling her in against his body once they were settled underneath the covers.

The warmth of her skin against his and the way her hair smelled of coconuts was blissful and he was whisked away into a deep sleep before he knew it. As if time played a cruel joke, he was awoken by the incessant groan of the alarm clock going off, seemingly, only mere seconds after he had just fallen asleep. Dean groaned and turned to look at the clock on the bed-side table, the bright red numbers blinking.

            _7:15._

"Good morning babe" he whispered. Jo smiled at him wearily and kissed his forehead.

"Good morning."

He knew this look all too well. Jo hated getting up for work. Ever since she and  met as teenagers, more than anything, she'd wanted to be an elementary school teacher. She loved kids, and for a time she enjoyed her teaching job very much, but this year they switched her from the kindergarteners who worshipped her, to the disrespectful fourth graders.

 It had only been a week since school started and she already hated going in everyday and Dean hated seeing her so down, those bratty ass kids taking away her happy smile and bright eyes.

"I know it's hard baby, but don't worry things will be fine. It will get better you just have to give it time" he comforted, scooting closer to her and gathering her in an embrace. There was nothing more he wanted to do but to grab her by the waist, pull her back into bed and cuddle all day.

But they were adults with jobs and responsibilities and the bills wouldn't get paid if one of them just decided to not go into work.

"I guess so" she said, smiling sadly and breaking free from his arms.

             "I'll see you later okay?"

She leaned in and gave him a quick kiss before grabbing her purse and heading towards the door of their small apartment.

 He walked up to the doorway of the bedroom, where she stood last night, watching as she scrambled around the living room impatiently, tossing couch pillows around.

Dean cleared his throat, "looking for these?" In his hands, he held up a pair of black sunglasses between his fingers.

 A look of relief and gratitude swept over Jo's face as she walked over to retrieve them, rewarding her husband with a chaste kiss.

He smacked her butt playfully to lighten the mood as she tried to walk away, earning him a slap on the chest and another kiss, this one long and dragged out.

"I love you!" he yelled after her as she ran out the door.

"I love you too, and stay safe!"

            _Stay safe._

There were many times when Jo wasn't sure if Dean would make it back home to her, but he always did, every night. He was strong. He'd promised her every single day since they started dating that he'd be careful and everyday he came back home to her loving smile, and golden blonde hair that seemed to glow in the sunlight.

There was never a day he thought that he wouldn't be able to come home and see his beautiful wife, but he never took it for granted, always being extra careful on a job.

Sure he'd been burnt a few times here and there, and got little scratches, but it was nothing he couldn't handle. He considered himself lucky for those tiny injuries.

They had nothing to worry about.

He was always safe _._


	2. Chapter 2

**_Monday September 10th 2001 10:00 pm_ **

            "Sam," Jess appeared from the kitchen, peeking her head out.

"Oh hey Dean!" she said, pretending she didn't know he was already there, coming in to give him a hug. "Can you give us a minute?" she asked him politely, flashing him a bright smile and quickly grabbing Sam's hand and leading him into the kitchen.

"Is everything okay out there? I know you and Dean haven't been too _fond_ of each other lately" she whispered, leaning in close to make sure no one else but Sam heard her. "I could literally feel the tension in the air out there."

He smiled endearingly at her and ran an idle hand through her golden curls and rested it on her cheek. "Yea everything's okay baby. We're just talking about some uh- family stuff, I'll tell you later okay?"

 She nodded and he bent down to kiss her in reply. "I love you" he said, kissing her one last time before walking back out to meet his brother.

            "I love you too" she said to herself, or to the empty kitchen, or whoever was listening because Sam sure as hell wasn't. Whenever Dean came by lately, it's always been an argument between him and Sam and it nearly almost ended on a bad note, which made things between him and Jess tense as well.

They were engaged to be married in a few months for fuck's sake and when was the last time they even made love?

Jess sighed longingly and looked down at her ring, shining big and brilliantly on her finger.

She loved Sam, she really did. He was everything she ever wanted in a man, or he used to be at least. But there had to be some changes, starting with Dean.

Jess loved Dean like a big brother and she never had a problem with him coming over to spend time with them but lately all him and Sam ever did was fight and bicker and it was starting to take a toll on her.

She shoveled the rest of the food from the pot on the stove to a small container and placed it in the fridge. So much for a nice family dinner.

 In the other room the two brothers were deep in a heated discussion, their voices in a whisper so that Jess wouldn't hear but it was no use. She could hear every single word.

            "Dean I don't know why you still have this blind faith in dad when all he ever did was let us down!" Sam yelled, sitting on the edge of his seat, hands crossed on his lap and his right leg shaking uncontrollably.

 "It doesn't matter Sammy, he's our dad" Dean retorted. No matter what wrongs their father did by them, Dean always believed in him. He always believed that someday he would change and things would go back to the way they used to be before their mother died.

Sam on the other hand hated the man and couldn't stand the thought of giving him money yet again.

"Oh yea, some dad he was leaving a thirteen and a nine year old alone! We could've died in a fucking motel room if Bobby hadn't found us." Sam, now furious, stood up from his spot on the couch to pace around the room.

"I did the best I could to take care of us!" Dean stood up too, defending himself the best he could.

 "And that's just the point Dean. It shouldn't have been up to you to take care of the both of us, you were just a kid too" Sam said, his tone more gentle.

He walked over to Dean and placed a weightless hand on his shoulder which Dean shook off dismissively.

"Losing mom was the hardest thing in the world for me and I know it kills you inside, I know you miss her as much as I do. Hell, you probably miss her more than I do, you were such a mama's boy."

He laughed bitterly, tears stinging in the creases of his eye and blurring his vision. Dean refused to look at his baby brother because if he did, he too would start crying.

He had to be strong for the both of them just as he's always been. He tried taking a different approach to his request.

            "And wouldn't mom want us to help dad? She was in love with the man, the least we could do is help him out when he's desperate. Isn't that what Bobby did for us?"

"It's different, Dean" he argued.

"How is it different? " Dean shouted getting angry all over again.

"Mom fell in love with John Winchester, a strong man who would do anything for his family, not the man who hurt his sons, left us to die, and now wants to come back into the picture only because we have money now, something to offer him."

"And we have to help him! He's family, he's Dad!"

"Yea, well he was a sad excuse for a father!" Sam snapped. His voice rang throughout his and Jess' small two-room apartment and the air between him and Dean buzzed.

"Don't you dare say that about Dad, he did his best to raise us."

Dean loved Sam more than anything in this world but he wasn't going to just let him bash their dad like this.

He didn't understand the pain John went through losing his wife, he was too young at the time, they both were, but Dean at least tried to have sympathy. He couldn't even begin to imagine losing Jo.

"When he was piss drunk and beating us nearly to death or leaving us for dead in motel rooms for weeks by ourselves?!" Sam said, his voice breathy and light and dangerous.

Dean was silent. He was always arguing with Sam about Dad and the outcome was always the same thing. Sam refused to give him the money to give to their Dad so he just made up the slack by paying extra.

 Sam refused to help their father out no matter how much in need he was. The damage in their relationship was done and there was nothing Dean, nor anyone else could do to fix it.

            "I don't know Dean, after Mom died everything changed. We practically lived on our own and Dad was nowhere in sight was he?" Sam questioned, "he forced us out of our home, out of our school and we never stayed anywhere longer than a month. We lost all our friends."

Dean looked away, focusing his vision on a small, white rectangle of paper.

Thinking back to his childhood and holding a grudge on John would do nothing but leave him angry and hostile, like Sam was.

"Losing one parent was hard enough but we lost both Dean. Mom didn't have a choice to stay with us but Dad did, and he left."

 Dean bent down to pick up the small piece of paper on the floor turning it over in his hands. It was one of Sam's business cards.

 

_Samuel WINchester- Business Attorney_

_"You can count on me. You'll never lose."_

            "This is some bullshit you know that Sam?" Dean said referring to the card.

 "Excuse me?" Sam asked defensively.

"I worked my ass off, had no type of social life for you and look at you now. A big shot business lawyer and you can't even give back a little bit. After all I've done for you, all I gave up, you can't do this one thing for me."

"That's not fair Dean, I would do anything for you and you know that. I would die for you!"

"So why can't you do this?" Dean interrupted.

"I work hard for my money and so do you. You shouldn't just go around throwing it all away when you know Dad is spending it on alcohol so he can kill himself with it!" Both men were now standing toe to toe, neither backing down.

"Fine! I'll help him myself like I always do. It's scary how selfish you really are Sammy" Dean said, shaking his head disappointedly.

"Dean don't-" Sam tried to argue but he didn't listen. His mind was already made up that he was helping his father yet again. How could he not take care of his father, his own flesh and blood?

He and Jo would just have to live on a budget for a little while, it wouldn't kill them. It wasn't the first time they'd gone through this.

"Dean!"

             Dean stormed out of the apartment, jamming his keys roughly into the ignition of the Impala and sped off down the block, passing his own apartment.

Jo was expecting him to be home by now but he just couldn't face her.

He couldn't admit to her that they had to put their honeymoon off yet again because he had to support his pathetic father who was too dependent on alcohol to function for himself.

 "Hey Dad...yea...I got it...meet me at the bar on Houston street.."

 The conversation on the phone was brief and Dean couldn't help but feel like he had made a mistake. Maybe Sam was right about Dad. Maybe he doesn't deserve help, family or not.

 As soon as he gave John the money in the bar he felt sick. It was twice as much as he gave him last time and he knew Jo wouldn't be happy that they had to cut back yet again.

            All Dean ever wanted was to make his family happy. This was more than he bargained for and he was tempted to ask his father to give the money back after he'd already given it to him. He almost laughed at the thought.

"Seems a little light there" John said, pretending to weigh the money in his hands.

"It's the best I could do Dad. Jo and I are barely getting through and it isn't fair to her. Use me, sure I'm your son. But don't do this to her anymore."

"Jo, what a pretty little blonde. She could surely find someone better than you" John spat in disgust. "This is barely enough to support a family."

"I'm trying-"

"Not hard enough it looks like."

Dean swallowed thickly, doing everything in his power to not punch his father straight in the jaw.

John flashed a toothy grin and from the looks of it, he'd lost another tooth since he last saw his father. Rage boiled up inside Dean's body and he did his best to keep his cool despite the sting of his father's words.

"Y'know, she'll leave you. She'll realize that you're no good for her, that you have nothing to offer. She'll be leaving soon, as she should."

"You're drunk" Dean said, clenching his jaw with all the strength he could muster, the muscles in his face aching under the pressure.

"Aren't you observant" John laughed, breaking into a fit of laughter. "Next time I want more money" he said getting serious suddenly.

"That's five hundred fucking dollars."

            John laughed again shoving his son roughly backward, knocking him into someone's drink. Dean growled, shaking the foamy beer off his leather jacket.

"I want more I said" John grabbed him by the front of his shirt.

"Hey you two need to stop or get out of here!" the man behind the bar yelled towards them.

"My pleasure!" John offered, shoving Dean even harder.

He watched as his father walked out, stuffing the wad of money in his pockets and hoped someone would rob him. He didn't deserve it.

After all Dean did for the son of a bitch and he told him that Jo should leave him. What if she did leave him because of this?

He felt sick to his stomach thinking of living his life without Jo there. She was the love of his life, the only real thing he's had besides Sam and Bobby in his life and he was throwing it all away.

"You look like you need a drink" the man said as Dean sat on one of the empty stools at the bar, sliding a glass of copper-colored liquor to him.

"Just keep 'em coming" Dean mumbled throwing it back. 


	3. Chapter 3

**_September 11, 2001 7:00 am_ **

            If Dean was too tired before to feel the effects of last night's events, the alcohol was definitely hitting him now.

A wave of heat rushed over his body and his mouth watered, barely giving him enough time to run to the bathroom to empty the contents of his stomach.

He hadn't eaten hours before his drunken party last night at the bar, so he was just throwing up bile and water. Gross. He groaned and wiped at the corner of his mouth with the back of his arm.

"I'm never drinking again" he whined to himself.

He attempted to get up only to be stopped by another churn and purge of his stomach, gripping the sides of the toilet bowl for balance as the bathroom felt like it was spinning.

As much as he wanted to remain on the floor and rest for a while, he had to go to work. Maybe if he hadn't given his father five hundred fucking dollars he could afford to take one day off.

He cursed at himself for the hundredth time since last night in the bar and pushed against the toilet to help him stand on his feet.

This was going to be a long day.

            Against his will, Dean got undressed leaving his clothes in lazy piles around the bedroom floor and practically crawled into the shower.

The cool water beating down on his skin was refreshing and gave him time to think about last night.

Him and Sam were alright. Sure they were mad at each other but they would get over it, they always did.

Was he doing the right thing?

Dean couldn't help the feeling of regret for helping his Dad out. If he really wanted to help him, he would pay for therapy or something.

Giving him money was just feeding his addiction. The only thing it was doing was helping him to ruin his life.

He rested his head against the white-tiled wall as the water trickled through his hair and down his spine, washing away all his worries.

Of course he was going the right thing. Sure most of the money was going to alcohol, but John needed money for food and motel rent and if the money Dean gave him helped at all, he would keep giving it to him.

* * *

             "Hey Sam, don't be so hard on yourself" Jess said, crawling to him, his back facing towards her.

"It's just not fair. Why can't Dean see that our dad is just using him yet again?" he questioned, knowing she wouldn't have the answer.

"That's just how your brother is baby, you know that. Sometimes his heart is too big, and it's for the wrong people who don't deserve it but you can't change him. The most we can do is help him and Jo out when they need us."

She slid her hands over the smooth skin on Sam's bare shoulders and down to his chest.

"If he would ever accept it" he murmured sourly.

"What matters is that you offer it right?"

Sam took hold of her tiny wrists in his giant hands and turned around to face her.

"I know he'll come around" she added, "Don't give up on him."

"You're probably right" Sam admitted, "Did I mention how much I love you?"

Jess batted her lashes at him and smiled bashfully. "I think you mentioned that I'm the perfect fiancé and I'm amazing in every way...or something like that."

"Or something like that" he mimicked, "What would I do without you?" he asked, staring into her green eyes.

"Crash and burn." She smiled playfully and winked at him.

Leaning in for a kiss, he smiled against her lips as the weight of his body pushed them both down so that her back was pressed against the bed and he was hovering over her.

            "I love you Jessica Moore" Sam whispered, scanning her face."I wanna spend the rest of my life with you."

"I love you too Sam Winchester" she laughed.

"Let's get married next month. An October wedding would be perfect" he glowed, twirling a finger through one of Jess' curls.

"So soon?!" she asked, sitting up excitedly. "We weren't supposed to get married for six more months!"

"I can't wait anymore. I can't spend another day not being your husband" he breathed.

"Wow, you're serious" she said, stopping to look into his eyes, which contained not a thread of uncertainty. She tilted her head questioningly, a smirk on her lips.

"I know my fights with Dean have been driving you crazy, I know. And I am so sorry for putting you through this but I love you Jess. I'll fix things, with us, with Dean too. I'll try to be better" he said, burying his face in her hair.

A pang of hurt hit his chest as he remembered burrying his face in his mom's hair, blonde and soft like Jess'.

Jess pulled away from him, holding his face in her hands. "I love you" she said sincerely, running her thumbs over the scratchy stubble on his chin. "I will always love you no matter what. I know that things aren't perfect but I'm not going anywhere."

"Now let's get ready for work" she said, patting his leg and making her way to the bathroom.

She stopped halfway turning back to Sam and winking at him; he took his cue.

            They took their showers together to save time and water, one of Jess' eco-friendly ideas of course, but Sam wasn't complaining. He loved the feeling of the warm water on his skin and the closeness of the woman he loved more than anything in this world.

Following their normal routine, they ate a quick breakfast, and Sam dropped Jess off at the bank for work before taking himself to his office.

Parking in the city was bitch, he would have to suggest the subway to Jess later after work. She hated taking the subway but paying for parking and the hassle of finding a good spot on the city streets was getting to be annoying.

In all honesty, as long as they were together, he didn't think she'd mind much.

Sam stepped into the building and was immediately greeted by one of the older secretaries on his floor, making her way to the elevator. She was like the mother of the building.

"Good morning Sammy" she smiled, "want a muffin?"

She was also the only other person he'd let call him Sammy, besides for Dean and Jess.

"Morning Mildred. No thanks I'm good, I'm watching my figure these days" he said, patting his stomach.

"Nonsense! Oh please sugar, your figure don't need no watching!" she said, thumping him on the butt with the basket of muffins, as they walked into the elevator together.

He laughed easily and placed his free arm around her shoulder.

"Oh Mildred, you flatter me!" he said, pushing the button to the 30th floor. The doors closed in front of them and the car whisked them upwards.

* * *

 

            Dean slid his belt into the last loop of his pants and buckled it together, his hands shaking weakly.

Maybe he needed his daily coffee to get a hold of his tension. If he was being honest, it was probably the fight with Sam that was making him such a wreck more so then the gallons of whiskey he ingested at the bar last night.

 He slid his shoes on, tying the laces lazily and throwing on his brown leather jacket, sighing at the sight of the worn out elbows and shoulders.

He couldn't even afford to buy a new jacket but he kinda liked the worn-out look, made him look more badass.

 A buzzing sound from the kitchen table caught his attention and he walked over to his cell phone, catching it as it vibrated off the edge.

_Sam._

After last night, Dean was furious with his brother. He needed to let this steam blow off before he would talk to him again.

He didn't want to end up saying the wrong thing that could possibly ruin their relationship forever, over a few hurt feelings and harsh words said yesterday.

He couldn't risk losing Sam, no matter how selfish and unreasonable he could be at times.

He let it go to voicemail. If Sam really needed him, he would leave a message.

Sliding his phone into the pocket of his jacket he stepped out into the hallway, locking his apartment door behind him.

As he got into the car and closed the door behind him, his phone vibrated in his pocket again.

"Dammit Sammy" Dean cursed, struggling to retrieve it from his deep pocket.

_1 New Voicemail_

Hesitantly, Dean flipped open his phone and called his voicemail. The least he could do is listen to the voicemail and get back to him later.

            " _Hey Dean, I know you're probably still mad at me...okay you're definitely mad at me. I'm sorry I always screw things up and I'm so selfish. It's just...you know how I feel about Dad. Even though he's our father it's just really hard for me to feel sorry for him. Him and I always but heads and you were always the one to come in the middle and stop us. After Mom died, you were the one who tried so hard to keep the family together. I'm sorry I didn't try harder. He hurt us so bad Dean, not just physically but really deep down and I don't know if I can forgive him. I'm sorry things ended up this way but those few months after Mom died, we were inseparable, remember that? All we had was each other and I'm not willing to lose that, not over dad or ANYTHING. I love you man. Please call me back, I was thinking we can do lunch today. If not we can ju-"_

"End of message."  

* * *

 


	4. Chapter 4

**_April 24, 1980 12:28 pm_ **

            "Dad, what are you doing here?" Dean asked his father, his voice laced with anxiety. Their dad never showed up to their school; Sam and him always took the bus home together after school.

If John was here, something had to be really wrong

"Hey boys. Sorry to take you out of school so early" John said, ignoring Dean's question.

He signed the boys out at the secretary's desk and left with a curt nod, his sons trailing close behind.

Now, he was really worried.

"No, we're not going anywhere until you tell us what's going on!" Dean asserted, stopping in his tracks.

John sighed and grabbed Sammy by the hand. Now that the boys were getting older, Dean was constantly challenging his father's authority. Sam, quick to mimic his older brother's actions, had stopped also, waiting for Dean to call the shots.

"I'll explain everything when we get home" John said.

"No," Dean refused again, "I like being at school. I don't wanna leave."

"Well you don't have a choice" John said reaching for his eldest son's arm but he jerked back."Dean, I'm not playing around."

By the looks of it, neither was Dean.

            "Get in the goddamn car now!" John yelled, scaring Sam, who let go of his father's hand and ran to the car.

Dean flinched at the raise in his father's voice but stood his ground, he wasn't a baby anymore.

"No" he said, unmoving, arms crossed in front of his chest.

"Dean," his dad warned, trying to be commanding but failing when a single tear escaped from his watery eyes. "Please just listen to me for once."

Why did he have to go and cry? If it wasn't for that stupid tear, Dean would've held his ground, but something about his father crying made him sick to his stomach. Dad never cried.

He nodded sheepishly, ducking his head as he walked quickly to the car. He was afraid. He knew that something was wrong with Mom.

She had been sick for months now and she wasn't getting any better. He knew as soon as he saw his father at school that something was terribly wrong.

Sammy was too young to understand what was really going on but Dean clung to him for comfort anyways in the back seat of their Dad's car, praying that their mom was still alive.

She couldn't leave them, not now, not like this. It was too soon. They didn't have enough time with her yet.

Dean swallowed hard, promising himself he wouldn't cry. He didn't want Sammy to get worried and start crying too; he had to be strong.

            When they pulled up in front of the house, Sam climbed out of the backseat and made his way to the front door. Dean held back, watching as his little brother banged on the front door.

His fists were tiny and white against the tall brown oak. He sang happily about the days of the month, something he probably learned at school.

"Dean" his father's voice snapped him out of his racing thoughts and prompted him out of the car.

They set their backpacks down in the living room and took off their shoes, placing them side by side just like they'd been doing ever since Dean can remember. They did it every single day, just like Mom said to but for some reason today it seemed different.

The house was too quiet. "Where's Mommy?" Sammy asked, clearly thinking the same thing that Dean was.

"Now boys," John cleared his throat getting their attention, "your mom is very sick and she's getting worse now."

Dean turned away from his father's gaze but John put his arms around both boys, holding them tighter to his body.

"She's not doing so well and this might be the end."

"She's not going to get better?!" Sam asked, his lower lip small and trembling.

"No, Sammy" John sighed, "she will probably die soon. I wanted to tell you boys before I let you go upstairs and see her."

            Dean bit the inside of his cheek so hard, trying not to cry. Maybe if he could focus on that pain, the pain in his heart wouldn't hurt so bad. He glanced at Sammy whose misty green eyes were brimmed with tears.

"It's okay Sammy" Dean tried to smile and show Sam that if he could be strong everything would be okay, his shaky voice betraying him. He placed a hand on Sam's shoulder and squeezed lightly. He wasn't sure if he was trying to convince his baby brother or himself.

The room was spinning and Dean felt as if he was losing his balance. He felt light-headed and nauseous.

John had apparently lost all his words, and instead led the boys upstairs to the bedroom he shared with his wife Mary.

Sammy bounded past his father and brother to his mother's bed side, tears spilling onto his face all over again. "Mommy!" he cried, burying his face into her neck.

She shh'd him and stroked a hand through his hair. "It's okay baby" she said, smiling at Dean and holding a hand out to him.

"Don't leave! I promise I'll be better" Sam cried.

"It's okay Sammy, I'm here! I'm still here!" she sang, pulling away to look into his eyes.

Dean walked slowly to his mother's inviting hand, melting into her touch against his cheek.

            "I love you boys so much, I'd never leave. I'll always be right here" she said, poking a slender finger on each of their chests, right above their hearts, causing Dean to erupt into a fit of sobs and tears.

He tried so hard to be grown-up and strong but he couldn't hold it together anymore.

"No, don't leave Mommy! I'll be better" Sammy cried again, "I'll be better." After thirty minutes of sobbing, both Sam and Dean passed out on either side of their mother, cradled under her arms.

"They better get some sleep" John said, walking into the room after a little while.

"Yea, just give me a few more minutes" Mary requested. She smiled down lovingly at her boys, her two handsome boys.

John nodded solemnly and waited uncomfortably in the doorway, watching her the shaky movements of her hands.

She looked at Sammy first. "You were my biggest baby" she whispered, "Lord knows how you got to be sucha skinny-minny, but I just know you'll grow to be taller than me someday, taller than Dean and Daddy too."

John left his wife alone with them. She needed this time with them and it was too hard for him to listen to her say goodbye.

"And you'll be so handsome!" she swooned. "Some little girl someday will be trapped in your spell with your puppy dog eyes and your adorable little dimples" she giggled.

            "But no matter how big you get, you'll always be my little baby. You'll always be my little Sammy."

He stirred underneath her, shifting a little but resting back down comfortably.

"I'm sorry I have to leave you, but it's not your fault baby. You don't have to be 'better,' you're already the best! What other six year old knows his times tables so well" she smiled down at him, tapping his nose with her index finger.

"I know you'll do something great someday. You'll grow up to be a doctor, or a lawyer, or a teacher. I can't wait to see you grow up baby.

Even when I'm not here, I'll always be watching over you and your brother, even when you think I'm not with you."

"Promise me you'll always be my sweet, sweet Sammy. Don't you let this world harden your soul baby boy, because life will do that to 'ya" she laughed.

"But you gotta be strong and tough it out for me okay? And don't let your hair get longer than mine" she said, ruffling his brown hair.

"I love you Sammy" she whispered, kissing his forehead, his nose, and both cheeks, "be good to your father and your brother."

            Then she turned to Dean. "Hey you. My first, my perfect, perfect son. I love you to the moon and back you know that?"

"From your smile, to your green eyes, your nose that goes to one side a little too much, each...and every freckle...You were my miracle."

"I remember when I was pregnant with you, I thought, I'm gonna be a mommy. How in the world am I going to raise a baby?

But as soon as you popped out of my belly, I fell in love with you."

"You came in to my life at just the right time Dean."

"You're secretly my favorite" she whispered, laughing and kissing Sam on the forehead again.

" Okay so I have two favorites" she admitted.

"I pray to God everyday that you see how good you really are my baby. I know you can't always see it but I do."

"I know you will grow up to be a hero some day. I can see it in your eyes, the way you care for your brother like your life depends on it."

Her tears blurred her vision, streaking down her cheeks and falling onto the tops of Dean's hands.

"Don't be so hard on yourself baby, you are so perfect you know that?"

"You can do anything you set your mind to. You're so strong, so so strong."

"I love you Dean" she said, kissing his freckled cheeks, "remember, always take care of your brother."

            "Oh God- my boys, my babies!" she cried out, her sobs shaking her body, kissing her sons over and over.

John rushed into the room and removed Sammy from her grip. He didn't want them to see Mary like this. He knew tonight was the end and he didn't want them to be here for it. He didn't want them to see it.

After he plopped Sammy down on his bed, he returned to his room to retrieve Dean but he had already woken up and was soothing his mother, running a hand through her hair.

"It's okay Mom," he comforted, "it's like you always tell me and Sammy, the crying is usually the part that hurts the most."

His voice began to crack but he wasn't leaving his mom's side. "It's like you always tell us, angels are watching over you, Mommy. It'll all be okay soon. I promise."

John watched as his eldest son interacted with his wife, calming her down, making her relaxed. Dean kissed her head one last time before he left, their hands intertwined, dwelling for a moment before finally releasing each other.

That kid had a depth to him that John never really understood until he witnessed that moment with Mary. Hell, he was only ten years old and had a wisdom and maturity to him that many grown men would never have.

It intrigued him how mature his son really was and it broke his heart because after all of this was over, he would never get his childhood back.

"Dean, go take a little nap with your brother. I want to talk to Mom for a little bit" John suggested, Dean nodding and leaving the room quickly with one last glance at Mary.

            When they were finally alone, John dropped to his knees in front of his wife, wiping at the tears on her flushed cheeks.

His own sobs filled the room, echoing off the walls.

"Mary, how am I supposed to live without you?" he cried, looking up at her.

"Those boys need you. They're already losing me, they need you now more than ever!" she replied, grabbing a hold of his hand in both of hers.

"I can't! I love you! I can't live without you baby."

"John Winchester you listen to me!" Mary whispered, knowing Dean was still awake.

" I need you to promise me you won't abandon my sons! They need their father. I love you too but you gotta let me go" she said sternly. "It's my time to go."

"No," he said, "I can't-"

"You will" she interrupted. "I need you to do this for me John, I love you so much. I don't wanna die, I really don't baby but I have no choice. It's my time."

John gave up fighting. He knew Mary was leaving him today or tonight, the time didn't really matter in the end.

            The love of his life was leaving him alone with the boys and there was no more arguing left to do. Quietly, he walked around to the other side of the bed and climbed in, pulling the covers up to his shoulders.

Her last moments shouldn't be an argument, it was time for John to man up and if the last thing he could do for Mary was comfort her, then that's what he was going to do.

Mary nestled against his chest and he wrapped an arm around her, bringing her closer to his body. His nose was buried in her hair and some strands were getting in his nostrils and it was much too hot to be so close but he didn't care enough to move.

He would stay there with her for the rest of his life if he could. He would do almost anything to not let her go, to keep her here, keep this family together.

He stroked an idle hand through her curls and told her all the reasons he loves her, breathing in her scent.

Something he wouldn't have when she was gone.

            They talked for hours about the first time they met, their first kiss, their song, all the little things that made them fall in love. It was almost blissful to spend this time with each other, despite the inevitable.

The echoes of her laugh hung heavy in the room as her voice quieted and it was just her breath, shaky and unsteady.

She was in pain now and John could tell, but there was nothing he could do about it.

"Thank you" she whispered, barely audible above the hum of the house.

"For what?" he questioned, trying to keep his tone firm and impassive.

"For making me so happy. I wouldn't have had it any other way" she answered, stroking his cheek lightly.

John tried to think of something to say but his voice caught in his throat and he nodded instead, kissing the top of her head softly.

"Tell the boys every day, that I love them" she requested, "Make sure they know how much...how much I love them."

"I will baby" he choked out.

"And you too John, I love you so much" she breathed, finally closing her eyes.

After a few moments her breathing slowed and the room was completely silent.

He watched as her body slumped forward and her head hung with the weight of her body. John swallowed thickly and tried to force his heart to start beating again.

"Mary?" he asked, relieved when she twitched and readjusted herself.

She was just sleeping.

He walked over and gently moved her so that she was now laying comfortably in bed, her face looking the most peaceful it has in a while.

Just to make sure, he held his hand underneath her nose to feel her cool breath as she exhaled.

"I'll be back," he stated, even though she was sleeping, "Just getting some water."

            When he walked to the kitchen he jumped when he saw Dean sitting there by himself, a pensive look on his face.

"I thought you were sleeping buddy" John said, ruffling his hair.

"I can't sleep" he admitted.

"What about Sammy?"

"He's still asleep."

The sound of water filling John's cup pierced the deafening silence and Dean cleared his throat uncomfortably.

"I'm sorry I gave you such a hard time at school today Dad, I was just really scared, that's all" he finally said.

"I know Dean, I don't blame you. It's okay to be scared, I'm pretty scared too right now. I just wanted my boys to be here with me. I just wanted the whole family to be together before..." his voice trailed off and he took a gulp of water to clear his throat.

The action was unsuccessful because swallowing was harder than usual. The lump in his throat was suffocating and his skin suddenly felt clammy.

He looked at his son's face, in his eyes, and wanted to tell him that he was sorry. He was sorry that he would lose his mom, sorry that he would lose a part of his childhood, a part of his innocence.

But he couldn't put his feelings into words. How could he? What do you say to comfort a ten year old that's losing their Mom?

            "It's okay Dad" Dean comforted, running his small hand up and down his father's back. "I know we won't get to have Mom stay with us but no one can take her love away from us. She'll always love us no matter what" he said.

It amazed him how well his son was taking this. Even though he was older than Sammy he was still a child, ten years old and he was the one comforting his father.

John embraced his son in a tight hug, hanging on for life, hanging on to an impossible hope that Mary would get better, that they would get to be a real family still.

Maybe if he prayed hard enough, she would be up and walking tomorrow. Miracles do happen right?

"I'm going to go check on Mom" he said, breaking out of Dean's arms.

Dean nodded but didn't move from his seat in the kitchen, it was like he was stuck in quicksand, he could feel himself sinking fast.

He wasn't ready to go back in and see his Mom. What if he couldn't handle it? What if he couldn't be strong like she asked him to?

John walked slowly up the stairs, afraid of what he might find when he went into the bedroom, the wooden boards creaking under his weight. With each step his heart was thumping out of his chest and he fought everything in him that told him to turn back around a stay with Dean in the kitchen.

Mary was going to die sooner or later and John couldn't avoid her until she did. It wouldn't be fair to let her die alone.

When he got there, she was alright, everything was alright.

He checked on her multiple times after and it was always the same, her breath hitched every so often but it would return back to normal and everything was fine.

 

            His biggest fears came true that day. Mary left him. She was never coming back and now he was alone with two sons and it was all too much for him.

The boys had been asleep when she passed, oblivious to their dad's their heart break.

John engorged himself on whiskey and scotch, numbing his senses. He didn't want to feel anything anymore.

He made his way back to his bedroom, breaking everything in his path, including his own heart.

"Why did you have to go and leave me!" he yelled, "how the fuck am I supposed to live without you!"

He threw picture frames, vases, anything he could get his hands on, against the wall. Watching as the shattered pieces of mirror and glass fell to the floor.

Sam came rushing into the room after hearing all the commotion followed quickly by Dean.

It was clear that Mary had died just by the look on John's face, the strong scent of alcohol filling the room, making Dean dizzy.

Sammy ran to her bedside, shaking her, willing her to wake up but to no avail, she remained silent. She was long gone from here. Sam sobbed loudly into her shirt, his tears soaking through to her skin.

"Please Mommy, wake up!" he screamed, as Dean watched in horror from the doorway, all the strength and bravery draining from his body. This wasn't his mom anymore.

She was naturally fair, but her skin had taken on a gray, almost purple color to it and her hair which normally shined like gold lay limp on her shoulders.

Her body was still here, but their mom was long gone.

            "Your mother's dead! Look at her," John yelled at his sons, "she isn't coming back!"

Sammy just cried and cried and ran his little hands through his mommy's hair, ignoring his Dad.

"She ain't coming back boy! Get off her!" he screamed shoving Sammy hard which gave Dean enough strength to make his legs work again.

He was next to the bed in seconds, prying John's hands off his baby brother, trying with all his power not to look at his dead mother.

"What's the matter? Look at her Dean, she's dead! My wife is gone" John cried, grabbing Dean's face roughly, forcing him to look at Mary.

"You ain't so brave now are you?" he spat.

            Dean pulled away fighting back the tears, trying to be strong but his dad was stronger.

Tears distorted his vision and twisted the room around, his hands griping at Sammy's shirt, John's rough hands against his own face, the silent hum of the house as the three men fought to hold on to the one thing that held them together.

After a few minutes of struggling to get away, Dean broke free from his father's grip and took Sammy back to their shared room, panting and crying.

"Shh Sammy it's okay, it's okay" he whispered, pulling Sam into his lap and stroking his hair.

It was soft and warm and it felt nice between his fingers. Sammy was the only thing he wanted to focus on right now, the only thing that was keeping him calm and distracted.

_"Take care of your brother."_

"I will mom" he whispered into Sammy's hair, rocking him back and forth.

"I promise."

****

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thinking of doing a spin-off of this story solely about Mary Winchester and her death. I didn't want to get in too much detail in this story because it's not really about her death, it's about 9/11 but it was important to the plot. If the spin-off is something that would be a good idea let me know (:


	5. Chapter 5

**_September 11, 2001 8:15am_ **

            "Dean, that's the tenth time you listened to that message" one of his co-workers, Cas, said, motioning to his own ears.

"What?" Dean asked, irritated.

"I can hear it, it's the same message" Cas replied, walking around his desk to sit across from him.

"Oh" was all Dean said.

"Trouble with Sammy again?" his friend asked, a sympathetic look on his face.

Cas and Dean had been on the same unit for almost four years now and in that time, they became best friends. He was the only one besides Jo and Bobby who knew so much about Dean and his family.

"Yeah" he nodded, "he can just be so stubborn sometimes y'know?"

Cas nodded, waiting for Dean to continue.

"So our father asked for more money again and yesterday I went to ask Sam for help. I'm always giving more than my fair share to Dad and it's still never enough for him, so I just went over there to ask for some help."

"I don't think Sam's the problem in this situation Dean, maybe your father is" Cas said.

            "Yeah maybe, but he's our dad. Are we just supposed to not help him out? He's still family."

Dean shifted uncomfortably in his seat, he hated when other people talked bad about his father. They didn't understand what he had to go through after Mary died.

"And he's using you for your money that you work so hard for Dean. I don't know anyone else who works as much over time as you do" Cas said.

"Well, I think it's the right thing to do" Dean shrugged, "it's what I would want someone to do for me if I was in need."

"But that's your decision to make, not Sam's. I don't think you should be angry with him because he doesn't agree with you" Cas offered.

"He's held this grudge on him for so long, and I just don't know how he can stay angry for so long. I don't understand it."

"Talk to him about it" Cas suggested.

"He won't listen to me. I don't see the point in trying anymore Cas, he won't help me because he knows it's for Dad and that's something he's vowed to never do again."

"He's still your brother and you love him more than anyone Dean, I know you do. I think you should call him back" Cas suggested again.

Dean groaned and rolled his eyes at his friend, "I guess you're right. He wants to go to lunch today."

"You should go" he said shortly.

Dean nodded and flipped open his cell phone, scrolling slowly through the contact list and choosing Sam's name reluctantly.

            He brought the phone up to his ear and listened to it ring five times before his brother answered.

"I didn't think you were gonna call" Sam said before Dean could even get a word in.

"I wasn't" he replied truthfully, "but I don't like us staying mad at each other."

"I'm not mad at you Dean" Sam interjected, "you're the one mad at me."

"Look Sammy, I just don't want to fight about Dad anymore. All these years we stuck by him and tried to help him out of his depression but he just used us, he's still using us."

Sam was quiet, waiting for his brother to finish. Dean wasn't even sure if he knew what to say.

"Last night he took the money from me and told me I was useless, told me that Jo would leave me because I can't provide for my family. Do you know what that feels like?"

There was that sinking feeling in his chest again and he willed himself not to get emotional at work in front of his co-workers.

"No Dean, I don't. I know that must have hurt real bad to hear your own father say those things to you but he's the one who couldn't provide for his family. He's not even half the man you are" Sam admitted. "He's a coward."

"I just don't want this to come between us Sammy. That's the last thing I want, and if it came down to you or Dad, I'd choose you in a heartbeat."

            "Nothing's coming between us Dean, I promise you that. I'll help out more if you want me to" Sam said.

"No, I'm gonna stop. I'm gonna stop giving him money Sammy" Dean said, his voice still hoarse from last night but confident and sure.

"I'm proud of you Dean, really. I just want you to know that you don't have to do this for him. You deserve better."

"So how about that lunch?" Dean asked after a few moments, lightening up the mood.                

"Yea of course" Sam chuckled, "I get off at 11:30 today, I'll come by the station and meet you."

"Alright man, I'll see you then" Dean said and hung up, feeling relieved.

Whenever him and Sam had a fight that lingered on, it always made him feel miserable. Sam was the most important thing to him and he hated when they fought.

"See that wasn't so bad right?" Cas asked, flashing him a smile.

He had a nice smile, his bright blue eyes a shocking contrast to his white, milky skin.

Dean liked looking at Cas, not in a 'I'm attracted to you' way, but he had one of those faces that            

was warm and made you feel loved.

Cas is gay and used to have a thing for Dean when he first started on the job. It was safe to say they were definitely not friends in the beginning, but now, they look back and laugh about it all the time.

In a way, it brought them closer and made their friendship even stronger.

Dean smiled back genuinely and then stood up, straightening out his wrinkled pants.

"Yeah, yeah" he said, patting Cas on the shoulder, walking over to the coffee table to make himself the cup he's been dying to have all morning.

_Black with no cream and two sugars, just how he liked it._

Maybe today wouldn't be so bad after all.

He made his way back to his desk across from Cas humming Metallica to himself as he brought his mug to his lips.

"Coffee is the most amazing thing ever invented " he mumbled into his cup, drunk on the smell of warm coffee and the steam on his face.

Cas just laughed, shaking his head, and returned to his own desk.

"I'm serious!" Dean yelled across the room, a smile in his voice.

* * *

 

          Sam was knee deep in legal papers when a newbie secretary walked timidly up to his office door. The knock was barely audible and she would've gone unnoticed if it weren't for the glass on his door, making her form visible.

"Come in!" he yelled, continuing to scan the clutter of papers in front of him.

"H-hi I'm Nancy. I'm Bela Talbot's secretary" she said, speaking quickly and quietly.

He knew exactly who she was.

"O-on the 75th floor, and she asked to speak with you" she said nervously, wringing her hands together in front of her.

"Okay I'll give her a call now" Sam replied, smiling in an attempt to make her a little less terrified of him.

Ever since he was promoted, most people have been treating him differently, like he was some big scary business man. Despite his six-foot-four and two-hundred and twenty pound stature, he was just a big puppy of a man.

"Um she actually wants you to go up to her office."

Sam groaned, not towards Nancy, but because he knew Bela was up to no good. She knew very well that there were still rumors about them going around the office; he couldn't just waltz in there without anyone talking.

Reluctantly, he followed Nancy the secretary to the elevator and to Bela's office, smiling every time she glanced timidly over at him.

            "Ms. Talbot" Sam greeted her as he walked inside.

"Oh please, I tell you all the time, call me Bela" she said with a knowing smile.

"Okay, Bela what can I do for you?" he asked tightly, pulling up a chair next to hers, avoiding direct eye contact.

She laughed half-heartedly and ran her hand across his collar, her fingers lingering over his skin, sending electricity through his body.

He clenched his jaw and asked her again. "What do you need help with?"

She smiled again, her blue eyes sparkling in the sunlight peeking through her window.

Sam cleared his throat awkwardly and sat back further in his chair, creating a distance between them.

Sam knew better than to get too close.

There were  probably rumors still going around about him and her.

Sure they had a thing a few years ago but it was over for a while now, he had no feelings left for her but her feelings for him never really left.

He knew that being around her would only cause him trouble. He already cheated on  Jess with Bela back in college and it was the biggest mistake of his life.

Now that he was given a second chance, he wasn't going to fuck it up, especially with his rant on an October wedding this morning.

Bela showed him some files that she needed help setting up and he got to work right away. As nice as her office was, he liked being in his own, far away from her.

He was engaged to get married soon and the last thing he needed was a rumor about him and Bela going around again. This time there would be actual proof of him in her office.

            "Can you do one more thing for me?" she asked, batting her lashes at him.

"How long will that take, I have to get back to my office now. I have to work too y'know" Sam answered, annoyed.

He looked down at his watch. He didn't plan on staying in her office so long, it had already been twenty minutes and she was asking for even more help. He began to feel like she was just making an excuse to spend time with him.

Sam groaned and looked back at Bela. "This better not take long" he said through gritted teeth.

"It won't" she said quickly, beaming when he took the papers from her hands.

Honestly he didn't know why some people were so afraid of him, he was apparently the biggest pushover in the office. 

* * *

 

            It was a quiet and beautiful day, the kind of day where they had no work to do, no fires, just the light breeze that floated through the building.

Dean and Cas spent the next half an hour sipping coffee and reminiscing on past holidays they spent together with Jo, Sam, Jess, and occasionally one of Cas' mystery boyfriends.

Neither of them knew how they got on the topic but by then it was already too late.

"Remember that time when we got so drunk that one Christmas and you ran around the house with nothing but Speedos and a bell around your neck!" Cas said in between laughs.

Dean was buckled over laughing and Cas was leaning against him, unable to sit straight either.

"That was classic! You know, Sam, that son-of-a-bitch taped it! We gotta watch it this Thanksgiving" Dean suggested.

"And then when Balthazar tricked Sam to walk under the mistletoe and kiss him!"

"Now THAT I had to get on tape" Dean said, a sly smile on his face, "for revenge purposes of course."

Their laughs floated along the gentle wind, being carried throughout the station.


	6. Chapter 6

**November 23, 2000**

            "Jess, why are you so nervous?" Sam asked his girlfriend, as they rode in a taxi to his brother's place. It was only a few minutes away from their apartment together but he didn't feel like driving and it was getting too cold out to walk the long city blocks.

"I'm not nervous, it's just really cold" she said, fidgeting with her fingers and pulling the sleeves of her wool coat over her hands.

"Babe it's okay" Sam chuckled, placing a warm hand over hers, "you met them before, at the wedding remember? It's just Dean and Jo and maybe Bobby."

"Yea well this is Thanksgiving dinner" she argued, "it's different."

"Hey look at me" Sam whispered, "they'll love you, just as much as I do."

He placed a soft kiss on her lips and gave her hand a reassuring squeeze.

"I know they'll love me, I just hope they like my casserole" she admitted jokingly, shifting the bag of food on her leg, smiling up at him.

"Trust me, Dean loves all food. He will never dislike anything that is edible. So if no one else eats it, just know my brother will" he said, his face breaking into a dimple-cheeked smile.

Jess couldn't help but gush at how perfect his smile was. The scarf around his neck was obnoxiously too big and every so often he would duck his head down into it to feel his own warm breath against his face.

She smiled to herself as she watched him, admiring the way his ears and the tip of his nose turned bright pink from the cold wintry breeze.

            When they arrived at Dean and Jo's, there was another car parked in front of the building, the spot usually reserved for Sam.

Since he wasn't driving today anyways, it didn't seem to catch his attention, until he remembered Dean mentioning that a friend of his from the fire department was spending Thanksgiving with them.

His name was Cas, and he was supposedly bringing along a friend as well. The car out front must have been his.

Sam paid the driver and gave him a generous tip, the least he could do was give him a little extra for working on Thanksgiving Day. They waved goodbye as he sped off and walked up the cement stairs to the door.

Now that Sam and Jess were waiting outside, it felt even colder as the brisk wind hit them, blowing fiercely and stinging at their cheeks. They could see their breaths fog up and disappear into thin air.

"Dean come on man, it's freezing out here!" Sam yelled impatiently into the ringing phone, knocking on the door again.

He turned the knob of the door to find out that it was unlocked and huffed; the damn thing was open this whole time. They walked inside, shaking the snow off their boots and coats. Dean's apartment was upstairs, third door on the left.

When Dean didn't answer his phone, Sam figured he was probably just taking a shower now. He loved waiting last minute with things like this.

The smell of turkey and pie floated underneath the door and Sam and Jess inhaled deeply as it met their nostrils. Sam knocked only one time before he heard footsteps on the other side stop right before the door.

From the inside, the lock turned and a dark-haired man in his mid-twenties, wearing a red sweater, greeted them.

            "Hey you must be Dean's brother Sam and his fiancé Jessica, I'm Castiel" the man said, reaching out his hand for Sam to shake.

Sam, who was checking the number on the door to make sure he was in the right place, turned to face the man again at the mention of Dean's name, and smiled sheepishly.

He expected to see his brother's or Jo's face when the door swung open so he was taken aback for a moment, completely forgetting about Cas.

"Yea that's me!" he said, shaking his hand.

Jess smiled politely reaching her hand out for Cas to shake but instead he pulled her into a hug, startling her.

Castiel moved aside, letting them inside as he closed the door behind them.

"Oh you can call me Cas by the way" he said, "And this is my, friend Balthazar."

Behind him, in the living room area, another man got up from his spot on the couch and came to meet them. Sam noticed that his sweater, though a different color, matched the one that Cas was wearing.

He also noted the way the man's hand hovered over Cas' lower back, unsure if he was allowed to touch him.

"Hey, I'm Sam and this is my fiancé Jess. Nice to meet you" Sam said politely, shaking his hand.

            Just then, a red-faced Jo emerged from the kitchen, an enormous grin on her face. "You guys are here!" she yelled excitedly coming to hug her in-laws.

 "It's so hot in the kitchen, sorry if I look a mess. Here let me take your coats" she said taking the casserole from Jess' hands and placing it down on a nearby table.

"I got it" Sam interrupted taking his girlfriend's coat from her hands, and laying it over his own, "Jess can help you in the kitchen."

Jess shot him a glare over Jo's head, thankful for the height difference.

"Yeah, I could use some help with the desserts. It's really easy don't worry" Jo said, holding her by the wrist and bringing her into the kitchen.

It was as if Sam and Jess had started up the whole party because as soon as they arrived, the small apartment was bombarded with laughter and music and happiness.

Jo and Jess were blasting the radio with Christmas songs, singing loudly and out of tune in the kitchen while they cooked, and Balthazar entertained the rest in the living room with stories of his travels to Europe while Cas beamed at him.

Dean came out of the shower moments later with nothing but a towel around his waist and Sam did his best to pretend that he didn't see the way both Balthazar and Cas watched his half-naked brother.

"Hey, it's a party in here!" Dean said, stopping to look in.

"Put some damn clothes on so you can get back out here and say hi to your old man, ya idjit!" Bobby, who'd just arrived with Jo's mother Ellen, threw a couch pillow across the room, missing him by an inch.

"Alright, alright I'm going!" Dean laughed, catching it in his hand and throwing it back, missing Bobby entirely.

* * *

"Okay boys, since the ladies are slaving over the stove in the kitchen, the least you can do is start putting up the Christmas decorations" Jo suggested, peeking her head into the living room.

All the men looked at each other and groaned, all except for Cas who seemed almost giddy with excitement. The rest would much rather finish watching the game.

"C'monnnnnn babe" Dean whined.

"No Christmas decorations, no pie" she countered, waving a stirring spoon in her hand. As if it was magic, Dean was up from his seat on the couch and turning off the TV in seconds.

"You heard her, no decorations no pie" he said to the men.

To make things go quicker, they decided to split up. Sam, Balthazar and Cas would decorate the tree and the inside decorations, and Bobby and Dean would do the outside. Sam almost complained that the inside was twice as much work but he decided it was better than being out in the cold.

Turns out Cas had quite the eye for decorating.

"Here let me help you with that Sam" he offered, taking a red ornament with gold stripes from Sam's hands, "you don't put reds next to other reds. They clash too much" he said, placing the ornament in a different place, smiling approvingly at his work.

Sam chuckled and picked up another tree decoration, making sure to put it in a place that it wouldn't "clash", waiting for Cas to nod in approval before moving on to another.

The three men spent close to an hour arranging and rearranging the balls of gold and red on the tree so they were perfect.

            "So Cas, Balthazar, are you two like..." Sam started, but he found his voice trailing off. He didn't know exactly what he was asking, or why he was even asking it, but he suddenly felt embarrassed.

"Yes, we're partners...if that's what you're asking" Balthazar said quickly, "we're boyfriends."

Cas' cheeks flushed a bright red and he looked away from Sam. He was pretty open about his sexuality, but he couldn't help but feel like he was being judged whenever someone new found out about it.

Balthazar on the other hand, didn't seem to care one bit what Sam, or anyone else, thought of him.

"So when did you guys meet?" Sam asked, not skipping a beat. He didn't get suddenly quiet or fake a smile like most other people did, which made Cas a bit more comfortable. Maybe he wasn't like most other people.

"We met at school" Cas answered, "we weren't really together at that point though. It wasn't until we reconnected recently that we decided to try us out." He reached over to grab Balthazar's hand for assurance, an act of courage Sam thought.

He nodded, taking in the information, thinking of another question to ask. He was oddly curious about their relationship.

It was nice to see them get so comfortable and open about each other as they talked over a bin of tinsel and artificial snow, laughing and reminiscing. He actually enjoyed listening to all their stories.

By the end of the conversation Sam was certain they were the cutest couple he'd ever seen. He almost wanted to hug them, they were so adorable.

            Outside, Bobby and Dean were having a more serious discussion.

"So how is he doing?" Bobby asked, "your father, I mean" he added.

Dean knew exactly what he meant, but decided to ignore his question, unraveling a tangled bundle of Christmas lights.

"I'm serious boy, what's been going on with that man?" Bobby asked again.

Dean sighed, turning to face him. "He's just going through a lot right now" he answered.

"Yea, like what?"

Dean rolled his eyes and tossed a rope of lights across the balcony ledge.

"He's been having hard times lately, it's not a big deal Bobby" Dean said, brushing him off.

"It is a big deal Dean. It's painfully obvious that he's the only one missing today and it's hurting you." he said.

"If he doesn't want to be here, then that's his decision. It doesn't make a difference to me if he's not here."

            Bobby scoffed and brushed a clump of snow from the railing, watching as it fell silently to the second floor landing.

"Of course it makes a difference to you. It's Thanksgiving Day and the man can't even be here to celebrate with his two sons, too goddamn selfish to think of anyone but himself."

"That's my father you're talking about" Dean said, "He may not be perfect but I won't let anyone just talk badly about him.

"When are you gonna stop defending your dad for everything and start realizing that you deserve better, boy?"

Dean turned to him, "Should he be here today with us, probably, but I won't let you talk about my dad that way Bobby. As much as I love you, as much as you've done for Sammy and I, you have no right-"

"I have every right!" Bobby yelled, "I damn near raised you and your brother since you were just kids; where was your dad then? He was barely at your wedding for god's sakes, showed up piss drunk and miserable as always. I'm not really sure why he did show up anyways."

Dean ignored him again, carefully fastening the rope of lights in a neat line. He just wanted to get the job over with so he can escape Bobby's scrutiny.

"I just think you spend too much time worrying about him" Bobby said more gently.

"Of course I worry about him, he's my Dad Bobby. He's family" Dean replied, blandly.

After a few more minutes of silence, except for the sound of the staple gun against the wooden ledge as Dean hung the wreath, Bobby's voice pierced the silence.

"Just because he's blood, doesn't mean he's family" he said, stringing one last rope of lights and turning to Dean who continued to work, avoiding eye contact.

Bobby shook his head sadly and started cleaning up the mess of tools and scattered mini light bulbs around their feet.

"Come inside when you're done with that boy, everyone else is inside, no need to stay out here by yourself" he said, "I'm sorry I asked. Today is supposed to be a celebration."

Dean, now finished with the wreath, stared absently across the street.

* * *

It was eleven o' clock when everyone was high on food, laughter and wine, and too drunk on happiness to notice how late it was getting.

"So what's for dessert?" Sam slurred, bringing his glass up to his lips for another swig.

"Cas!" Balthazar said with a wink, elbowing his boyfriend in the ribs playfully, causing the poor guy to choke embarrassedly.

"I want a big slice" Sam teased, stroking Cas' leg seductively underneath the table. As much as he loved his boyfriend Balthazar, there was no denying that Sam was gorgeous.

It was all out of good humor and fun but Cas was more than glad Dean came out when he did, detracting the attention away from him and his tomato-colored face.

He couldn't hide his growing attraction to Sam's suggestions and just the thought of it made his throat tight and his palms sweaty. He knew it would never happen, for god's sakes he was straight and his girlfriend was sitting right at the table with them.

What the hell was wrong with him? He turned his attention to Dean, thankful for the humorous distraction.

"Pie!" Dean answered loudly, returning from the kitchen with two trays in his hands, "and more pie!"

Everyone laughed as he plopped the trays down clumsily on the table, almost knocking everything else down in the process.

            There was a faint knock on the door, and since Bobby was the only one who heard it, he figured he would just answer it. Everyone else was too drunk and stupid to answer if it was something important anyways, damn idjits.

As soon as he opened the door, he regretted it. An angry and obviously drunk John Winchester exploded past him and made his way straight to Dean, pinning him against the wall by his shirt collar.

Anger bubbled up inside the pit of Dean's stomach and he stared coldly into his father's eyes, not backing down.

"So, you too good for me now boy? Can't even invite your old man to Thanksgiving dinner huh?" he asked. Dean winced as John's thumbs dug into his collar bones, the smell of alcohol so strong on his dad's breath, he could almost taste it.

He felt trapped, like he was ten years old again, John pinning him to the wall by his shirt. For a quick second he glanced over at Jo who looked absolutely terrified. Having barely met John at the wedding, she never saw him when he was truly drunk.

Dean turned his attention back to his father and glared at him even harder.

"And what about you?" John asked, turning to his other son.

The happy atmosphere in the room evaporated into thin air as the seconds passed, everyone on edge. John had perfected the skill of ruining every good moment in Dean's life, so why not today?

"Now look here, John" Bobby spoke up, "you know damn well your son invited you. You finally stopped drinking just long enough to realize what fucking day it was and now you're mad because no one held your hand on the way here? Grow the fuck up and be a man for once in your life!"

"You, shut up" John warned, his voice low and dangerous, "I'm talking to my son."

"Yeah? Well he's just as much my son as he is yours, if not more. I'm not just gonna let you barge in here and ruin everyone's night because you think you're an entitled little bitch" Bobby said.

            John laughed coldly turning his attention to him, still holding Dean tight against the wall.

"You've always been so jealous of me and my family Bobby, it's sad really. Your wife couldn't give you kids so you try to take another man's."

"Dad, stop" Sam said, standing up from his seat finally. Things had gone way too far.

It was one thing for him to come barging in and being mad at Dean and Sam, but talking about Bobby's wife crossed the line.

Almost everyone knew that she died in child birth and Bobby was never the same man after he lost both her and the baby. He was depressed for years, that is until he had Sam and Dean to take care of.

 The men stared at their father in complete disbelief.

"Don't you boys look at me like that, you know it's true" John argued, looking around at all the accusing faces in the room. "You all know it's true. Sam and Dean are MY sons and will always be MY sons."

Bobby who just regained the ability to breathe again planted his fist right into John's jaw making his knees buckle underneath him.

When John was able to stand up and tried to hit him back, he was stopped by Dean.

"I'm not letting you do this Dad, you need to leave now. It's Thanksgiving, can't you just let it go this time."

"Get out of my way boy" he said, shoving him hard, his back crashing into the wall behind him.

"No." Dean shoved him back harder, standing his ground and before anyone knew it, a full on fist fight broke out.

The women watched in horror as the men tried to pry John and Dean apart, punches being thrown in every which way.

            After a few labored minutes of fighting and struggling, Sam and Balthazar were finally able to get John out of the apartment and drive him to the motel where he was living, making sure he was fast asleep and wouldn't come back.

Cas, Bobby, and Ellen stayed behind to calm Dean down from the fight and Jo and Jess dabbed at his open cuts carefully with peroxide.

"I'm so sorry Dean" Bobby said sympathetically, patting his shoulder. Even though he didn't physically hurt him, he felt just as guilty for letting it get that far. He shouldn't have let his own feelings get in the way of what was the smart thing to do.

"No I'm sorry. He should've never said those things to you it was NOT okay. I don't even know what to say-"

"Don't worry about me boy, I'm alright."

Dean could tell just by his voice how hurt he still was. Dean turned away, his eyes brimmed with tears and his throat tight and uncomfortable.

This family would never be normal again. Here he thought today would be a good day, all the people he loved were with him and having a good time laughing and talking and singing, but it was all a joke. It wasn't reality; it wasn't his at least.

            "Don't let your dad ruin the whole rest of the night" Cas said to him when everything had settled down and they were alone in the living room, Jess and Jo talking in hushed tones in the kitchen.

"You heard the things he said to me, to Bobby. Sometimes it's hard to believe that's the man I call my father" Dean admitted.

"No one's perfect Dean. Of course what he said and did tonight was beyond fucked up, but you have to be the bigger person in this."

"I've always had to be the bigger person" he said, looking at Cas warily. "I'm just so tired of it."

"Cross that road when you get to it. But for now, let's get back to how it was before. Weren't you having a good time?"

Dean tried to smile and nod but his friend saw straight through his act. He knew what just happened with John most definitely ruined the rest of Dean's night, but he didn't want to ponder on it.

Instead, he offered him a hug which Dean willingly accepted, longing for the sense of affection.

There was no doubt Castiel was his best friend. He'd just seen Dean and his family, at its worst and still loved and cared about him. He wrapped his arms around his friend tighter, which Cas didn't comment on, but just did the same.

If it was only for this moment, he felt that possibly, things would get better eventually. 


	7. Chapter 7

**_September 11, 2001 8:45 am_ **

            It's hard for Dean to remember really, the first few moments of it all.

It was only seconds before, that him and Cas were laughing and reminiscing on last year's Thanksgiving, like it was just yesterday.

_Yesterday._

He really wished he hadn't fought with Sam. Even though they made up this morning over the phone, he couldn't help but feel something terrible would happen today. Fighting with Sam was so stupid, a waste of time, and now he really wished he hadn't.

He wanted to call him back, tell him that he was sorry a million more times, make sure he was okay, but would never get the chance.

Everything happened so fast, the minutes flashing by like the scenes of a silent film, cold and distant, some of the details a little hazy.

The earth-splitting sound, slicing dangerously through the city, threatening to demolish anything in its path and the way the air hung heavy above his head like the weight of a thousand souls, all of it seemed so very far away.

Terror and fear struck through him like lightening, his body stiff and immovable, but his legs like jelly, soft and useless. It took everything in him to will them to work again and he was back to the day his mother died, drowning in quicksand, sinking fast.

Her words rang in his ears, the words he wasn't meant to hear because he was sleeping, the words he was never supposed to know about, but he did know. He was awake the whole time and he would never forget what she told him. He promised.

_I know you will grow up to be a hero someday._

How could he be a hero, wracked with fear, his legs threatening to give out at any moment?

Dean didn't want to be brave, he wanted to run and hide, take cover even. He wanted a way out and he silently calculated an escape plan all the while knowing he wasn't going anywhere. He would go out there and save people, be the hero he promised his mom he would be.

He would protect Sammy.

            Fires were easy. He could handle fires, even the terrible ones that coursed through homes and destroyed everything in its path. But _this_ , this was something different, he knew. This was something far more terrifying and he had to be braver now, braver than he's ever had to be in his whole life.

That's what it meant to be a hero, right?

Outside the station, a dark cloud hung in the sky, choking the light breeze that was once flowing freely through the building.

 _"_ A fucking plane just flew into one of the towers!"a voice yelled over the radio, "Man, I ain't never seen something like this before! We need all of your men down there now!"

Nothing like this _had_ ever happened before.

Dean felt his heart go cold.  Sammy worked in the towers. He whimpered at the thought of his baby brother trapped in the building, his legs finally failing him as he fell to the floor.

_I can see it in your eyes, the way you care for your brother like your life depends on it._

His life _did_ depend on it. Sammy was all the family he had left and he couldn't let him die, not now, not like this.

            Dean felt a strong but gentle hand on his shoulder, a touch he knew belonged to Cas.

He tried to form words, thoughts, anything he could, but there was nothing. He wept silently, leaning on his friend for support.

Cas bent down to wrap an arm around him, the other stroking his back and arm soothingly, silently telling him, "everything would be alright."

It wouldn't be alright, he knew, Cas knew it too.

The chances of any of them getting out of this alive were slim, damn near impossible.

Dean looked to his friend for answers, something that would reassure him, but his bright blue eyes were large and sad, two oceans crashing violently against the shore.

Cas was always so sure of himself, always so positive about things. To see him looking so distraught, unhinged Dean even further. He knew this wouldn't end well.

            "Stay safe out there boys!" another officer said as the men strapped on their equipment and helmets.

_Stay safe._

Dean remembered what Jo had said to him earlier that morning. He was so confident, just like every other day, that he just brushed it off. He thought nothing would happen today that he couldn't handle, nothing that he hadn't seen before.

Now more than ever he just wanted to just hold his wife in his arms, keep her safe, keep them both safe. If only he had stayed home today like he'd wanted to, but it was too late now.

Something terrible happened today and the outcome was something he didn't want to think about, something he couldn't think about without his heart turning to stone.

He pushed away the image of his beautiful wife crying over his dead body, her life taken away from her so violently.

He didn't want to think about her having to plan his funeral when he was gone, spending nights alone in their small apartment, clutching his pillow so hard as if it would bring him back.

He really hoped he would live to see tomorrow and spend the rest of his life with her, promise her that he would stay safe, but he knew it wasn't a likely chance.

Even worse, he dreaded the thought of anything happening to Sammy, because _that_ , that was even worse than dying.

            Sam glanced at his watch for the third time in the past five minutes, huffing loudly.

Bela grinned at him from her seat, "you know, we can't stay mad at each other forever Sammy."

He looked over at her wearing his best bitch-face, ready to say something about how he most certainly could stay mad at her forever, and don't call him Sammy, but it was lost in the moment the building shuddered, the ceiling caving in on them.

Screams could be heard from the upper floors as a blazing white heat swept over the bodies huddled on the ground next to them.

Sam, out of instinct, threw himself over Bela, his own body taking the brunt of it. The heat tore at his shirt threatening to scorch the smooth skin underneath but he just held on to her tighter.

A deathly silence hung over them as the screams came to a stop, but the low rumble of the building was still there.

"Sam!" Bela yelled from underneath him, "you're gonna get hurt!"

He ignored her, clutching her tighter to his body, protecting her from the falling ceiling tiles. Even after all that happened between them, even after she almost cost him Jess, he still cared about her. He wasn't going to let her die.

Then it him, he could die today.

            Sam wracked his brain for answers but nothing seemed to sound right. Did a bomb just explode in the building? How were they gonna get out of here? The elevators were definitely not working; they would have to take the stairs.

Suddenly the silence was pierced by an awful sound, the sound of screeching metal, twisting and folding into itself, threatening to snap at any moment.

"Get up!" he yelled roughly, yanking Bela up by her arm.

"Sam we can't-" she started, only to be interrupted by him.

"Stop it Bela! We need to get out of here, if you haven't noticed the ceiling is caving in on us right now."

"But there's no way out, maybe we could- go out an escape window or something. Maybe a helicopter will see us" she said frantically, gripping onto him for dear life, her knuckles white as she wrapped her hand around his shirt sleeve impossibly tight. "We can't go down that way! By the time we get there we'll get crushed!"

"There's no one coming for us, we have to go downstairs, it's the only way" he said pulling her up again, after she'd sunk back down to the ground.

"Please" she begged falling onto him, crying into his shoulder.

"Hey look, it's gonna be okay" he comforted, wiping at the tears on her cheeks. "I'm gonna get you out of here, I promise."

He knew he couldn't keep that promise because truthfully, he didn't know what to expect when they got out of this room, but he would do everything he could to get her out, to get them both out if he could.

            As soon as they left the room, they were greeted by large swinging pipes and burning ceiling tiles falling to the floor, a deathly obstacle course for sure.

Bela held back in the doorway like a scared child, terrified to come any further out despite Sam's coaxing.

She stared in horror at the scene behind Sam,

"Please trust me Bela" he said, holding out his hand for her to take. "If you stay in there, you're gonna die" he begged, almost pleaded with her to come out.

She gave in, resting her small hand in his with so much unsaid feelings and emotions between them and when he squeezed her hand lightly for reassurance, she trusted him with her life.

She believed in him.

They sped through the hallway, dodging all the obstructions and locating the door leading to the stairwell.

"Well here goes nothing" he said, nodding at Bela and pushing the door open.

To his surprise, the stairs hadn't taken any of the beating the rest of the building had and they were able to get through almost twenty floors before they abruptly came to a dead-end.

The only way out was a single door that led back to the center of the building. They couldn't go back out that way, there was no way they'd make it through alive.

"What the-" he whispered to himself, patting the wall as if the rest of the stairs continued behind the thick layer of brick and cement in front of them and somehow, he could get to them if he tried hard enough.

The wall was cold and hard underneath his hands and he ran his fingers against the bumpy surface, trying to ground himself. Everything was happening so fast and it became hard to think.

Smoke began to surround them in the staircase, clouding the air, filling their lungs. Sam's mind was spinning and his words caught in his throat.

Bela tapped his shoulder and pointed to a sign on the wall:

_This is a transfer floor. To continue down the stairs, please locate the exit signs posted._

"Transfer floor?" he questioned, looking at her but she just shrugged.

            He huffed and pushed open the door that led to the center of the building again.

The sight in front of them, what they could actually make out through the thick layer of black smoke, was a terrifying one.

The damage had already made its way down to this floor and all they could see were bodies of people lying on top of others, it really just looked like a tangled pile of limbs and clothing.

Sam was tempted to stop, see if any of them were still alive but the huddles were motionless, no traces of life left.

Suddenly there was a second explosion, the building rattling and shaking underneath them.

The smell of burning flesh and smoke plagued the air and choked the oxygen from their lungs.

Idle sheets of paper floated gently to the ground, almost peacefully, a strange contrast to the huddled masses of people and the fire coursing through the body of the building.

He watched in horror as a tail of flames licked at the ceiling, whipping around a corner, burning everything in its path. A heavy piece then broke off and fell on Bela's leg, the loud snap echoing in the room.

She cried out in pain as she crumpled to the ground, the pain too much to handle.

            "Sam, I'm not gonna make it! My leg is broken I'm not gonna make it!" she yelled over and over, tears marking clean streaks against her dirty face.

His heart froze in his chest at the sight of her limp leg, hanging loosely where the bone snapped. He didn't even know what to say, or if he should say anything. He tried to form the words to say but none of it sounded right.

"Your face, it's dirty" he said instead, bending down to wipe at her cheeks with the back of his hand only to realize that his hands were even dirtier, a thin layer of soot covering everything.

"Sam-"

"When did your face get so, dirty?" His voice trembled and he fumbled with his own hands unsure of what to do.

"Sam, please" Bela pleaded, reaching out to grip his shirt tight in her fists. "You have to leave me here."

"No!" he yelled, grabbing her hands. "I'm not leaving you here. I promised!"

Tears were streaming down his own face now and he couldn't find the strength in him to move. He collapsed onto her, clinging to her for comfort, for answers, but she didn't have any.

Her breathing began to slow down from its rapid pace and she stopped crying and fidgeting all together.

He looked up to see her slumping down, eyes rolling to the back of her head.

            "Bela stay with me! You gotta wake up!" Sam yelled frantically, sitting up to look into her eyes, patting her cheeks with his hands.

She murmured something that he couldn't make out as her lids fell heavily. "Wake up Bela! You gotta look at me" he begged, shaking her roughly by the shoulders.

It was no use. Her body was going into shock from pure fear and the pain of a broken leg, which was now red and throbbing. She wouldn't make it very far, Sam knew, but he made a promise to her. He promised that he would get her out of here alive.

He scooped her up in his arms and ran as best as he could towards an exit, luckily finding the right one that led to the stairs.

About halfway down his arms and lungs gave out, his body collapsing to the floor. He held Bela tight to his chest, afraid to let go, afraid to move any further.

With each breath he pushed out, his body trembled. He was too weak. Even if he tried, there was no way both of them were getting out alive. He was wary if he would even make it out.

He sat there, on the last step watching as Bela's chest rose and fell with each shaky breath she took. She looked calm, not afraid, almost like she was sound asleep and at peace in her own bed.

            Sam thought about the way Jess looked when she slept, like an angel. He loved to watch her on early mornings right before the sun came up, shadows dancing across her gentle face, a small smile on her lips.

As if his eyes were burning into her she'd wake up and peek an eye open to look at him, a genuine smile breaking out on her features.

Then she'd drift back off to sleep, her mind capturing Sam's expression like a snapshot and storing it away for later, right before her eyes slide close, whisking her back to dream land.

_Jess._

She was probably watching this on the news right now, mortified and afraid. He prayed to God she wouldn't come after him, he couldn't imagine her getting hurt, dying. Not Jess.

He loved her more than life, more than himself. The thought of her dying, hurt him to the core. Someone as beautiful as her didn't belong in such a horrible place like this.

"Please don't come for me baby" he whispered.

_I love you Jessica Moore. I wanna spend the rest of my life with you._

I love you too Sam Winchester.

_She flashed a bright smile at him, her blue eyes sparkling._

_Let's get married next month. An October wedding would be perfect!_

_So soon?! We weren't supposed to get married for six more months!_

_I can't wait anymore. I can't spend another day not being your husband._

It wasn't fair. Why did this have to happen to him, after all he's been through? Why did he have to die this way?

            Sam reached into his pocket for his phone and called Jess. It rang and rang, the sound echoing in his ears.

"This is Jess, sorry I couldn't get to you but leave a message at the beep!" his girlfriend's cheery voice sang.

It would be the last time he would hear her voice and this would be the last time she would hear his.

_"Hey baby, it's me. I know you're scared, but it's okay. It's all going to be okay. I want you to know that I love you more than anything. You're my world. I want you to know that even when I'm not there with you, that I still love you and I don't want you to cry and be sad all the time because I'm not here anymore. I want you to live your life and be happy. Promise me you'll move on and live your life, be happy again. I know it won't be easy but you have to promise me you will. I'm sorry about our October wedding, it would have been so perfect, I know it would. So I just called to let you know that I love you and whenever you feel scared, or worried, even when you're happy, you can listen to this message and I'll be right there with you. Always, okay baby? I love you Jessica Moore."_

            His hands shook and he tried to keep his voice steady as he pressed END and opened his contact list again. He had to call Dean, there was no saying what would happen, so he needed to say goodbye the best he could.

He had so much to say but so little time, not nearly enough time to say all he wanted to say, all that needed to be said. He knew his brother wouldn't pick up, he was probably on his way here now with a whole squad of fire fighters, so leaving a message would have to do.

It was probably easier that way. Sam couldn't face saying goodbye to his big brother forever.

He pressed SEND, bringing the phone slowly up to his ear, listening to it ring only two times and when he heard Dean's gruff voice, he froze. Anything he wanted to say to him was lost and he sobbed silently into Bela's hair, the faint sound of sirens in the distance.

"Sam? Sammy?!" he yelled.

He wasn't supposed to pick up. Sam felt his whole body go numb.

"Sam!"

"D-dean," he began

"Oh god, you're alive! Sam where are you?" Dean asked, breathing heavily into the phone.

"I'm still inside Dean, I can't-"

"Sam, you need to get out of there now! Two planes just crashed into the towers" Dean said.

            "I can't Dean!" Sam yelled at his brother.

"What the hell do you mean you can't. Sammy get your ass out of there now!"

"Dean I love you, so much-"

"Sam" he warned, "I said get out of there now. Hang up with me and find an exit."

"I want you to live your life when I'm gone okay?"

"Sammy stop. Fine, stay on the phone with me!"

"You've always been so stubborn and protective over me" Sam chuckled sadly, his eyes stinging with tears.

"You need to get out of there, the smoke-" Dean's voice trailed off and he cleared his throat trying to mask the shakiness of his voice. "The smoke will get to your lungs and then it'll be too late."

"But I need you to know that I won't be getting out of here today. I love you so much Dean, I'm so sorry I couldn't try harder with Dad you know?" Sam continued. "Maybe if I tried harder for us, for this family, things would've turned out better."

"No" Dean repeated over and over. "I'll be there in a few minutes Sammy, just stay awake okay? Stay on the phone with me, I'll be right there. I'm coming right now."

"Dean, promise me you won't come here and try to save me."

"You can't expect me to just not come. I'm coming."

"Please."

"Sammy you could die in there! Don't you understand that?" Dean asked, his voice cracking as it reached an unnatural pitch.

"So?"

Dean remained silent, not knowing what to say. "Sammy, I-. What the hell do you mean 'so' ?"

Dean was always so willing to through himself under the bus just to protect Sam and now he just felt hopeless. It was like Sam wanted to die, like he didn't want to be saved.

"Dean, I love you. Thank you for everything" he whispered and hung up, holding the phone to his lips, his eyes squeezed shut.

He breathed slowly, his chest tightening with each inhale, a sharp pain piercing his side with each exhale.

"Goodbye Dean."

****


	8. Chapter 8

**_May 1, 1980_ **

            A few days had passed since their mom died, a week of not going to school, a week full of silent days and broken cries through the night.

Sam always complained about staying home. He liked school, 'why couldn't they go back', 'why did they always have to be at home all the time', he would ask his older brother. Dean didn't have the answers, but Dad told them to stay home and that's exactly what they would do.

He didn't have the answers to why the big, scary men in white uniforms took Mommy away, or why Daddy hasn't been home in what felt like weeks. Instead he would just give his baby brother a hug and rustle his shaggy brown hair, telling him that he'd never leave him.

They would wait by the door for hours waiting for their father to come home. He would have the answers for Sammy, he would know what to say, but their hopes were always met with disappointment and hurt.

When he finally did come home, Dean wished he would leave again, wished that he would one day get lost on the way home and never find his way back.

At all hours of  the night he'd come busting through the door, liquor seeping from his pores and lacing his breath. His voice low and dangerous, he would tell the boys to bring him a glass of the "good stuff."

If they refused, he'd beat them until their entire bodies were black and blue; hell- he'd beat them even if they did listen to him, just because. He'd say that he needed to get his anger out, like hitting his two sons would bring his wife back, like it would make anything better.

One day Sam built up the courage to tell his Dad, no he wasn't going to bring him anymore alcohol, he'd already had enough. That was one of the worst days of Dean's life.

The moment his father's arm swung out and his fist connected to little Sammy's face, the crack echoing through the house, Dean sprung into action defending his baby brother the best he could.

He tried to block all the hits but it was no use, before he knew it, his body was limp and useless. He was almost thankful for the way he was numb and couldn't feel a thing.

 Dean always got the worst of it, making sure to protect Sammy like he promised Mom he would, using his own body as a shield against his dad's drunken and sloppy blows. Each hit breaking him down until there was nothing left of him.

The next morning John's bed would be empty, the car gone from the driveway, and the boys could breathe again.

He tried not to be angry with his father, he tried to understand. He remembered so vividly the look of pure pain on John's features, the sorrow outlining the profound sadness he felt.

Dean tried, hell he did, but it was times like these when he would see the deep purple and blue spots sprawled out on his baby brother's back and arms and legs, Sammy, the one who still needed help with his showers because he was still so young. It was times like these where Dean hated his father.

            Sammy was too young really, to understand that their mom was gone. He didn't understand what it meant to die, but Dean did. Dean knew they lost their mom forever.

He knew that she couldn't come swooping in and protect them from their dad. He knew that the day he lost his mom, he lost his dad too. This man who came home in the middle of the night, leaving deep marks on his own sons, scarring not only their bodies but their spirits, wasn't the father he knew.

Dean would lie awake at night, after he'd put Sammy to bed and made sure he was sound asleep, and weep silently next to him. The sobs would shake his small body leaving a dull aching pain in the pit of his stomach.

Sometimes he would have to shove his face into the covers to stifle the strangled sounds coming from his throat. He did his best to be quiet so Sammy wouldn't hear him; he had to be strong for his baby brother, but he was broken. How could he keep his promise to his Mom to protect him when he couldn't even hold himself together?

He'd cry and cry until his throat hurt too much or his eyes were too puffy and when it was silent again, a small and gentle hand would reach out and trace circles against his back, until he fell asleep.

Every single night Sammy would let his brother cry, knowing he needed it so badly. Even though he was supposed to be asleep, he heard every whimper, every sob coming from his brother and he felt scared and alone and powerless.

All he could do was listen to the shallow sounds of Dean's breaths, labored and painful, and trace small circles into his shirt until he fell asleep, leaving himself wide awake and terrified because Dean was always the brave one. He was supposed to have all the answers.

            The next morning they'd pretend it didn't happen and everything just went back to the way it always was, silent.

One night, before the whole routine started, Sam turned to face Dean, his big eyes sparkling in the darkness.

"So it's my birthday tomorrow" he said, waiting for him to say something.

"I know Sammy, I remember."

He could tell his little brother was waiting for him to say something else so he shifted his weight so that he was face to face with him.

"So, what do you wanna do?" he asked, trying to sound enthusiastic, his lips stretching into a half-hearted smile. It was dark and Sam probably couldn't see it anyways but it was worth the effort.

Sam just shrugged. "I just hope Dad doesn't come back" he whispered, ducking his head shamefully, like a little kid repeating a bad word they overheard someone say.

"Sammy, don't ever say that! Dad loves us!" Dean yelled, "he's just going through a lot right now with Mommy gone and all." He wasn't sure if he was trying to convince Sam or himself, but he nodded in reassurance.

            "But why does he leave us all the time Dean? I miss him sometimes and I pray all the time that he'll come back home. But when he does come home he's always so mad at us. Why does he hit us so hard Dean?"

He sat up and lifted his shirt, exposing an apple-sized bruise on his ribs. It was a deep purple color with a ring of bright red around it, still clearly visible in the darkness. Dean could feel a warm feeling growing, festering in his stomach and he felt nauseous, like he was going to throw up.

He didn't know what to say, with his little brother looking up at him like he was supposed to have all the answers.

He slowly reached out to touch the tender area, wincing when Sam hissed in pain.

"It hurts to breathe Dean" he said, tears filling his eyes. "Why does he hit us so hard?"

"It's okay Sammy" Dean croaked out, grabbing him in a tight embrace, "everything's gonna be okay."

* * *

 

            The next morning Dean made sure to wake up extra early. He didn't like leaving Sam alone but if he wanted to make his birthday special, he would have to run a few errands. He prayed his father wouldn't come home with Sam all by himself, that wouldn't end well for anyone.

He searched through the whole house, collecting all the money he could find and when he decided he had enough, he rode his bike to the supermarket, coins jangling in his pockets.

Shopping was much harder than he thought, there were so many different choices for the same thing and nothing made sense.

He remembered going grocery shopping with his mom. This was her favorite supermarket because it had the best pies, she would say.

Dean inhaled deeply as the sweet and tangy scent filled his nostrils.

_"Can we go down the pie aisle Mommy!"_

_"No Dean, you know I'm supposed to be on a diet!"_

_"What's a diet?"_

_Dean tilted his head questioningly, his chubby hands gripping the handle of the cart._

_"Well that's when someone who's really fat doesn't want to be fat anymore so they eat               really healthy so they can be skinny again."_

_"But you're not fat Mommy."_

_He reached his small hands out and placed them on her stomach, staring at the round                 baby bump stretching her shirt._

_"You're just makin' room for my baby brother in there."_

_"You just want your momma to be fat huh?"_

_She tapped the tip of his nose lightly with her index finger, smiling down at him._

_"No! But maybe the baby likes pie!"_

_Mary just laughed, pushing the cart silently down the bakery aisle, Dean squealing with              happiness and bouncing in his seat._

            Dean walked the aisles of the supermarket aimlessly running a hand over the boxes and cans of food. He remembered being old enough to walk alongside his mom instead of sitting in the baby seat of the cart. Those were his favorite times.

When Sammy was born and too little to walk, he would stay in the cart and Dean would help his mom get things from the bottom shelves that were too low for her to bend down and reach.

Helping out made him feel important, made him feel needed. Now, he just felt hopeless.

When he got to the baking aisle he spent a few minutes reading labels and prices, shaking his head, and decided on a simple chocolate cake. Who doesn't love chocolate cake?

When he gathered everything he needed, he paid and raced back home on his bike, making a mental note to thank the cashier lady next time he saw her.

She'd seen the look on his face when he didn't have enough money for the icing and she told him she'd take care of it, slipping in two of those small Happy Birthday balloons after finding out that it was for Sam's birthday.

Luckily, Sam was still asleep and their dad wasn't home when he got back, so Dean quickly got to work on the cake, making sure to read the box carefully.

He never made a cake before, but following the instructions on the box was pretty easy and in no time he was done, sliding the pan into the oven.

            While the cake was baking, he got to work on making a card. Dean wasn't really the sentimental type, but he knew that's what everyone did on birthdays.

He held it at arm's length when he was done, examining it. It was really bad, but it was the best he could do, he wasn't an artist or anything. What was on the inside was what mattered anyways.

From upstairs, could hear rustling around and he knew that Sam was awake. Instead of the usual footsteps running down the stairs, he heard the shower turn on a few moments later.

He breathed a sigh of relief, thankful for the extra time.

In the time before Sam came downstairs, Dean was able to ice the cake and get everything ready and set up as best as he could.

He stepped back to look at his work, smiling admiringly. He did a pretty damn good job all by himself, he thought.

Just then he heard the familiar sound of Sam's loud footsteps clunking down the stairs.  

As he turned the corner into the kitchen, Dean's words caught in his throat at the sight of his brother's left eye.

It was swollen shut and a large gash sliced open the skin of his cheek underneath, identical to the fading wound on Dean's face.

Why didn't he see that last night? Why didn't he protect Sammy from the blow that did this to his small face?

He knew how it felt, how much it hurt when his dad struck him just a few days ago, the wound still feeling brand new.

Sam could tell by the look on his brother's face what he was thinking. "It isn't so bad, Dean" he said, avoiding eye contact. "It doesn't feel as bad as it looks, really."

It felt worse, he knew.

Anger bubbled up inside Dean's chest and he prayed to God his dad wouldn't come home today because he'd kill him. He felt like yelling, screaming, breaking everything, but he didn't want to ruin Sam's day.

"H-happy birthday Sammy!" he said instead, pulling his brother into a tight hug, burying his nose into his hair.

Dean took a comfort in doing that lately. Sam's hair smelled like his mom, warm and sweet, like vanilla.

            When he pulled away, the look on his little brother's face was worth more than any revenge he could get on his Dad.

"I love it Dean, really" he said, walking to the table. "You made this all yourself?" he asked, pointing to the cake.

Dean smiled proudly grabbing his brother into a knuckle-sandwich. "Yea I did" he admitted, "Why, you don't think I could pull this off?"

"No I jus-" Sam started, but he was interrupted by Dean tackling him to the ground, pinning him down by the wrists.

"And don't think I forgot about the birthday punches!"

Sam screeched underneath him, squirming to get free, failing to avoid Dean's punches.

The rest of the morning was great. They watched cartoons on the living room TV while eating chocolate cake for breakfast and for once they didn't actually miss being at school.

The happy mood quickly faded when they heard the sound of car tires against the gravel driveway. Dad was home.

They held their breath as the door to the Impala opened and closed with a loud slam, the sound of clashing metal echoing down the block.

When the front door swung open, Dean took a stance in front of Sam, half expecting his Dad to start swinging as soon as he walked in, and half curious about what was inside the boxes he held in his hands.

            "Hey boys, did you miss me?" John asked, his voice sounding steady and normal, something the boys hadn't heard in a while. He wasn't drunk today.

"No!" Sam blurted out, ducking behind Dean when John looked over at him.

"Now boys, there's no hard feelings right? I know what I did was wrong but we're still good right? I brought presents."

Sam hesitated as Dean took the boxes from John's extended hands.

One had Sam's name on it and one had Dean's.

Dean opened his first, an ACDC t-shirt.

"Thanks Dad, I love it" he said, handing the other box to his brother. John smiled approvingly at Dean and then looked over at his other son.

Sam stood there motionless, not taking the box from Dean's hands.

"Here Sammy, open your present."

Sam shook his head, glaring at his father.

"C'mon Sammy" Dean said again, through clenched teeth. He loved his baby brother and while yes, he had every right to be angry, it would be almost easier to just accept the gift.

"No, Dean. Buying presents won't make things better."

John calmly took the box from Dean's hands, a defeated look on his face.

"I know buying gifts doesn't change what I did but I really am sorry boys. I didn't mean for things to turn out like this."

Sam continued to glare at him, pure hatred in his eyes, a look that Dean never saw him have before. An unnerving look on his face that usual held a smile and a pair of puppy dog eyes.

As mad as Dean was when he saw what his dad did to Sammy's eye, he couldn't bring himself to hate his Dad, not like Sam could. Sam already hated his father and this was only the beginning of a long road ahead for the Winchesters.

            "Listen to me god dammit!" John yelled, throwing the box at the wall. A pair of new sneakers tumbled out hitting the floor with a thud.

Dean stared at the shoes, wracking his brain for a way to dissipate the argument because lately, things with Dad could get violent quick and as much as he didn't want to throw himself in the line of punches, his bruises still fresh and sore from yesterday, he wouldn't let Sammy get hit. Not today.

He tried to reason with him, reminding him that it was Sammy's birthday and he really shouldn't do this today, and he tried to reason with his brother, telling him that it wasn't worth it.

It was no use, they were both too stubborn to back down. Things already went too far and the only thing he could do now was protect his baby brother, like he promised he always would.

It was hard to tell really, when it all started but somewhere along the lines Sam said something about wishing Mary was still here and John fell apart, apparently not as sober as the boys thought.

"You miss your Mommy huh?! Well I miss her too but guess what, she's fucking dead and she ain't never coming back!" John yelled, inches away from Sam's face.

Sam felt his palms become clammy, a nervous sweat breaking out all over his body. Heat radiated from the fresh injury on his eye and his stomach threatened to empty its contents as his father prepared for a punch.

He winced in anticipation as he saw his dad's arm swing out. He heard the impact and felt the rush of air against his face, but didn't feel any pain.

He was pushed backwards against the wall with a thud.

It took him a moment to realize that Dean ran out in front of him, taking the full force of the hit.

Dean crumpled to the floor, clawing at his face that bled profusely from his nose. From the loud crack, Sam could tell it had to be broken.

            "What's wrong with you?!" he yelled, falling to his knees to comfort Dean the best way he knew how, tracing circles on his back, looking up every once in a while to glare at his father.

John stood back watching in horror as the blood poured from his sons nose and dripped onto the wooden floor and his other son clung to Dean telling him that it wasn't so bad, but it was.

It was bad. John should've never hit his sons like he did. He could've broken the kid's damn nose.

"I-I'm sorry" he whispered, barely audible over the sound of Dean's groans.

He backed away slowly to the front door, eyes on his two sons on the floor.

For the first time that day, he really looked at Sam's face. The purple bruise surrounding his eye looked painful and swollen. He wanted to rush him into the kitchen and get an ice pack for him. That's what Mary would do. That's what he should've done.

But he wasn't Mary, he could never be. He was the one who did this to his son's face, the one who hurt him. He wasn't the man Mary wanted him to be, but a monster.

He felt ashamed and disgusted with himself.

"I really am sorry boys. You deserve better" John rushed out, his words tripping clumsily over each other.

He took one last look at Dean and then walked out the front door again without another word.

            The boys waited silently listening to the car door slam and the tires against the gravel, until they were sure he was gone again.

"I really hate Dad, Dean" Sam said.

Dean just sat there staring blankly at the front door nodding his head. For the first time he felt like he hated Dad too, and it wasn't because he punched him.

It wasn't because his nose felt broken or because he could feel all the blood in his body rushing to the purple and blue bruises spotting his back and chest.

None of that really mattered to him.

He hated him because he ruined Sammy's birthday.

****


	9. Chapter 9

**_September 11, 2001 9:50 am_ **

            When Sam came to, he slowly took in all his surroundings, opening and closing his fists as his senses returned.

It was hot, a sweltering heat prickling at his face and the tops of his hands, but no, it was cool. A gentle breeze floating over him.

He was on the ground, he guessed, his palms pressed against the floor next to his body. His eyes were closed but he could tell.

Underneath his hands, the ground felt hard and cold. He ran his palms over the surface, stopping when he reached a small groove.

The ground felt grainy underneath his fingertips, almost like sand, and he imagined he was at the beach. He could feel the warm breezing blowing idly over his face, tickling his nose and his lips.

The ground was hard but it held his weight comfortably and he was just glad to be at the beach with the sound of the waves crashing on the shore.

            And then all too quickly, he was back to reality.

The faint sound of sirens could be heard racing down the street outside and without opening his eyes, he could tell the black smoke had completely invaded the stairwell now, making it feel much narrower than it really was.

A sharp throbbing pain on his temple caught his attention. Did he hit his head when he passed out? Wait, when had he even passed out?

The last thing he remembered was saying goodbye to Dean and just waiting, waiting to die.

Was he dead now? Was this what it felt like to be dead? He needed to calm down. His mind was racing and he could feel his heart beating hard and fast in his chest.

He tried to take a deep breath only to be assaulted by the thick musty air as it choked him, making him panic even more, his arms clutching at his chest as he tried to catch his breath.

Someone else was there with him. Hands were on him, gripping his shoulders and shaking him aggressively.

"Sam calm down!" a voice yelled. It sounded muffled and far away, like he was underwater.

He cracked his eyes open slowly to see a dark figure hanging over him. Even through the layer of soot in the air, he could tell it was a woman.

Bela. He'd forgotten all about her. He promised her he would get her out of here alive.

            He sat up abruptly, yelping in response to the pain the sudden movement caused.

How long had he been out for? Was it all over?

He looked at Bela whose mouth was still moving but he couldn't hear a word she was saying. He tilted his head questioningly, resting his weight on his elbows.

She tugged at his arm desperately, yelling things at him that he didn't quite understand or couldn't hear, or maybe both it was a little bit of both. Most of what she was saying was lost.

"Sam...need...get out...please..."

He could feel himself going back under, the smoke completely invading his lungs now. The room spun as his eyes rolled to the back of his head.

"Sam!" Bela yelled slapping his cheeks lightly. She held his face steady in her hands so that she was looking into his eyes.

"Sam I need you to look at me" she said calmly.

Her face came into vision and her voice became clear.

"We're getting out of here, okay?" she said loudly, making sure he heard her. There was hope in her eyes, he could see it. There was hope that they would both get out of this alive.

            "You promised you'd get us out of here, remember?" she asked with a trembling voice, trying to smile.

Sam nodded assertively, the soft and warm haze fading as reality hit him, cold and raw. If he couldn't remember where he was before, he definitely remembered now.

He was back in the north tower and something had just crashed into the building, a plane, he thought. It must've been a plane.

He'd been running down flight after flight of stairs and he was feeling his legs starting to cramp up. It didn't help that the black smoke that was filling the air was seeping into his lungs, making it hard to breathe.

If he got out of this alive, he was sure his lungs had to be completely black and covered in soot by now. His throat was dry and he winced in pain as he swallowed thickly, snaking his tongue out to wet his bottom lip. It was chapped and dry.

Each small movement he made was a searing pain, like being stabbed over and over.

Sam glanced at Bela who was still clutching onto her leg with her free hand. He'd almost forgotten that it had been broken while they were on the transfer floor.

This was going to be a lot harder than he hoped, but a promise was a promise. Bela was not dying here, not today.

            Almost an hour had passed since news of a plane hitting the north tower surfaced.

Tens of thousands of people rushed to flee the city at once, pushing and shoving their way through the crowded streets, just to get nowhere. Where was there _to_ go?

All the trains and tunnels into and out of the city had been shut down, the streets were being blocked off. The only way out was by the Brooklyn Bridge and people were being forced to walk it, abandoning their cars.

It was a nightmare, like a scene from a movie about the end of the world. The streets surrounding the World Trade Center were littered with debris and garbage and clothing and dust, making it hard to breathe.

Dean and the other men navigated the city blocks as quickly as they could, an almost impossible task with the sea of people flooding every street.

Tears  blurred his vision as he swiped viciously through the crowds pushing people out of his way. He needed to get to Sammy.

The closer they came to the towers though, the more people, injured and covered in soot, gripped at their uniforms, making the already heavy equipment feel like it was made of lead.

They helped some people, of course, but then it became too much. The heat of the sun bore down on them and underneath his equipment, beads of sweat ran down Dean's back.

His t-shirt clung to his drenched skin and it was becoming uncomfortable underneath the big heavy jacket, but nothing was worse than the feeling in his throat.

The air was dry and he felt a stinging burn in his lungs as he inhaled.

            An idle gust of wind blew and whistled through the spaces between Dean's fingers. It was like he could touch it, like he could grab it and hold onto it. Maybe then, he could hold onto something tangible, feel something.

He closed his fists around it but it escaped his hand, floating away and disappearing with the rest of the air, free from all of this destruction.

 He looked up to see a black cloud of smoke hovering above the city, blocking out the sunlight and casting shadows over everything.

He watched as the shadows danced across a woman's face as she shouted things at him, begging him to listen to her, but he couldn't hear what she was saying. It was like she was on mute.

Tears streamed down her flushed face as she groped at Dean's uniform, making the material gather uncomfortably around his neck.

"I-I-my brother's in there. I'm sorry but I-I need-" he stammered out, but he couldn't form the words.

At one point he was being grabbed at by the woman, clinging onto him, and the next moment he was being pulled away from her roughly.

He looked to see that it was his supervisor Crowley.

"We need to get to those towers NOW!" he yelled, still gripping Dean's arm tightly.

He yanked him by the arm roughly and dragged him down the road and away from the crying woman. From then, the men criss-crossed through back streets, dodging all the lost and confused people pleading for help.

It broke Dean's heart to walk away from them, there were women and children out there. It wasn't right. Something about seeing women and children in such a violent scene was unnerving.

But Sammy was in that building.

That was all Dean cared about in that moment. His baby brother was in the building that was collapsing before his eyes, before the whole city's eyes and he needed to save him, make sure he was safe.

As he ran through the city streets, he couldn't seem to make his legs move any faster. The World bore her weight down on his shoulders; she had his mother's voice and she said:

_"You didn't protect Sammy."_

His heart stung in his chest and tears burned at his eyes as he tried to dig his feet further into the ground, trying to make him run faster but his legs wouldn't carry him.

When they got close enough to the World Trade Center, Dean broke out into a full on sprint, leaving the other guys behind.

The sky became darker and the air, thicker with the black smoke of death. It crept up his leg and ducked underneath his jacket just to poke back up at the top and wrap its greedy hands around Dean's mouth, stealing his air, taking his life.

A sudden rush of air and a thud came from behind Dean and when he turned around, to his horror, lie a man, his body mangled and covered in blood.

He felt his feet give out beneath him as he realized it, his knees hitting the pavement. That man jumped. He was so hopeless and desperate that he jumped from hundreds of feet into the air. He must have known that there was nowhere else to go but down.

            The sound of feet slapping against the asphalt echoed in Dean's mind as he tried to get his grip back on reality. His head was spinning and everything around him was still and unmoving.

Suddenly he felt hands on him. They were strong and supportive but gentle and they gripped tight at his shoulders. He looked up to see bright blue eyes staring back into his.  Cas.

His mouth was moving, but Dean couldn't hear what he was saying. The sun shone around Cas' form , making Dean squint his eyes in response. It was like Cas was his guardian angel, guiding him, showing him the way.

"Dean we have to go!"

His voice finally became clear.

"Sam's in there!"

The mention of Sam's name awakened something in Dean again and he grabbed Cas' offering hand, standing up swiftly.

In the distance the sound of the other men's footsteps could be heard faintly underneath the sound of Crowley's loud and grating voice yelling at them to come back, but they didn't listen.

Dean and Cas ran into the building with no hesitations, never once looking back. 

****


	10. Chapter 10

**_February 20th 1990_ **

            "Dean, I'm old enough to make my own decisions" Sam blurted out after a long pause of silence, his sharp voice cutting through the thick tension of the air. Dean scoffed and continued to wash the dishes, mumbling under his breath about him being an ungrateful little brat.

He didn't have time for this conversation yet again. Sam wasn't dropping out of school and that was final. He wasn't gonna drop out just to get some crappy minimum wage job, he had way too much potential.

Dean was thankful for his gig at Bobby's, he really was, but Sam was special, he could go really far in life. He didn't have to drop out of high school like Dean did. He didn't have to settle.

"I can get a job at Bobby's...or somewhere else. I can help" he tried again.

"Sam, the best way for you to help is to just stay in school okay?"

Sam groaned and stalked over to Dean, slamming down the faucet to turn it off. "Sam" Dean warned, turning it back on just as forcefully.

He didn't want to talk about this, not now. He'd had a hard day at the shop resulting in a screwed up fender on his own part and he just wanted to relax for the rest of the night.

Sam obviously had other plans.

"No, Dean. That's just the point. Me being at school doesn't help us. If anything it makes things worse. I always have fees for school and lunch money and I would be so much better off staying home so I can make money too, help with the bills, take some weight off Bobby and you..." "Sam-"

"No Dean, listen to me for once! I don't want to just sit in school all day while you work your ass off here and-"

"You're staying in school and that's final!" Dean yelled.

"Why?! Why is it so important that I stay in school Dean? It's just a big waste of time!" Sam spat disgustedly. "What's the point?"

            Dean continued rinsing the soap from a small white bowl with his back towards Sam and his shoulders rigid, attempting to block Sam out but he wasn't relenting. He stood his ground.

He was always so stubborn, even when he was younger and it was one of the things that Dean loved the most about him. He stood up for what he wanted no matter what the consequences were.

He was brave and smart and everything that Dean could never be, and all ever he wanted to do was throw it all away.

"Maybe because you can make something of yourself!" Dean yelled. "Something better than what I am!"

He turned off the faucet again and threw the sponge in the sink, not caring that it splashed sudsy water all over the counter top he'd just wiped clean.

Sam watched as he stormed off.

After a few loud steps down the hallway and a slam of his room door, Dean was safe from Sam's glare, safe from the things that kept him awake most nights.

"I don't understand!" Sam yelled from the kitchen.

            Every time Dean had this conversation with Sam he just got so angry. He wanted to grab him by the shoulders, shake him and tell him that he's the smartest person he's ever known. He wanted to tell him how much he believed in him and loved him and that he wouldn't let him give up like he gave up on his self.

The one thing that terrified Dean the most in life, if he was being quite honest, was that Sam would turn out just like him, a deadbeat, useless. Even worse, he feared they would both turn into Dad. He was already halfway there, drowning out the pain with booze and sex and self-hatred.

There was no way he would let his baby brother ruin his life, he deserved to be happy, still had a chance to be. There was so much he wanted to say to him, so much he needed to say, but he couldn't form the words.

Every time he tried, they'd bubble up inside of him and get caught up in his throat, a steady pressure building, just waiting to burst. Instead, he choked out broken sobs and threw things at the walls, trashing his room.

He picked up a bottle of half-drunken liquor and brought it up to his lips but when he realized that it was the same "good stuff" that caused his own father to mutilate him and tear him apart, he threw it at the wall.

            It fell to the ground in a rainfall of shattered glass, the copper liquid spilling out onto the floor, staining the cream colored carpets of Bobby's spare room.

Dean stared in shock at the shards and chunks of glass sprinkled across his bedroom floor. He bent down to pick the pieces up but his vision was too blurry with tears and the cuts on his hands hurt almost as much as the pain in his chest.

"Dean!" Sam yelled, running down the hallway and busting through his brother's room door when he heard the loud crash and the sound of glass breaking.

His heart froze in his chest when he saw him, crouched on the ground, tears streaking his red face and blood gushing from the fresh wounds on his palms and the shattered glass, all the glass.

Sam was too young to remember most things that happened at the time after his Mom died, but there was  one thing that he would never be able to forget.

         _A vision of a young John appeared and he was throwing bottles of the "good stuff" at the walls, the floor, the bed, and anywhere else he could reach._

_Sam can't remember the words his father spat at him or the look of hatred in his eyes, but he remembers the feeling of them, harsh and grating, tearing him apart until there was nothing left._

_But it was the glass he remembered clearly. The way the afternoon sun shone through a crack in the dark, opaque curtains, splaying rays of light across the wooden floor._

_He'd just wanted to ask John if he was alright because he heard all the noise but he forgot what he wanted to say once he saw all the glass splayed across the floor._

_It picked up glints of the sunlight and gave off embers of pink and green and gold dancing across the room and he remembered thinking it was the prettiest thing he'd ever seen._

_He didn't notice it  but he'd whispered "Mom would really love that," remembering a golden necklace she always wore that threw sparkles across the entire room whenever the sun hit it._

_The moment he said it, he slapped both hands over his mouth, wishing he could take it back but it was too late._

_The damage was done and he squeezed his eyes shut and braced himself for whatever his father was going to do next. He could feel the rough skin of his father's knuckles already, connecting to his jaw or his shoulder almost too eagerly._

_The room felt like it was spinning and he became all too aware of his old bruises spotted down his back as the blood rushed to his skin._

_When he didn't feel anything after a few seconds a sense of relief washed over him and he opened his eyes slowly, still wary of the obvious tension in the room and the look on his father's face, which he couldn't quite place._

_The stab of glass against his face and the intense burn took over him as the cool liquid, the "good stuff" spilled into his wounds. It felt like his skin was on fire._

_Sam stood frozen to the ground with his mouth open and his eyes wide with terror as warm blood trickled down his cheek. Dad had never done anything like this to them, ever, not even Dean and he usually got the worst of the beatings._

_He couldn't believe what just happened and he was terrified of his father, his eyes dark and a broken bottle covered with his own son's blood, in his hands._

_His bottom lip began to quiver and he thought he might cry, but his throat felt too dry. He felt stupid for not fighting back, for just standing there, but he couldn't remember how to make his legs move._

_After it happened, John immediately apologized mumbling apologies over and over as he carried Sam into the bathroom, blood dripping from his temple and onto the already dingy motel carpet._

_He spent the next twenty minutes cleaning and bandaging the wounds on his son's hairline and cheek, looking at him with stern eyes and repeating over and over that it was just an accident, a misunderstanding._

_Luckily Sam's hair was long enough to cover the wound that stretched five inches across his forehead, so he didn't have to miss any school and most importantly, he wouldn't have to explain what happened._

_For the cut on his cheek, he would just say that he fell off his bike and scraped it on the concrete._

_His classmates would wince at the thought of their face being ground into the concrete as he told them his elaborate story of his battle wound, but they didn't know the half of it. They didn't know that it was a war._

_They didn't know that his father cut him, with glass and beat him and punched him and kicked him. They didn't know he would lie awake at night crying his self to sleep, scared to death his father would one day hurt him even more, one day finally finishing the job off._

_No one asked him any more about the cut, so he didn't tell anyone, not even Dean._

_He was with friends that day and was finally going out and having a good time like a normal teenage boy. Sam knew if he told him, he'd only blame himself for what happened._

_That night, John left them._

_Five years passed before the boys saw their father again._

            Something about the scene right in front of Sam today brought back the memory of the day his Dad sliced his skin open with a broken liquor bottle.

His skin felt like it was burning all over again, copper-colored liquor surging through fresh and open wounds and he subconsciously backed away, bumping into the door frame.

Dean, his older brother, the strong one, the brave one, was here in front of him broken and afraid and resembling the man he once called Daddy.

When his senses came back to him, he rushed to Dean's side picking up a stray t-shirt lingering on the floor and wrapping it around both of his hands, applying a steady pressure.

Dean's eyes were a hauntingly beautiful contrast, a deep fierce green against red, as they filled up with tears and Sam watched as they collected in the corners and flowed over and onto his cheeks.

He suddenly forgot why he started the conversation in the first place. It never ended well anyways. It didn't even matter anymore, nothing did.

The two of them stayed like that, looking at each other for what seemed like an eternity, and they understood. With no words, they understood.

It was like holding your breath; you can take in as much as you think you can hold, fill your lungs up till they're swollen with air and bursting at the seams, but if you don't exhale, then you're not really breathing.

 

_Inhale_

 

All the things left unsaid,

_"Thank you"_

_I love you"_

_"I need you"_

_"I miss Mom,"_

_"Why did she have to leave us?"_

_"What did we do to deserve this?"_

_"I'm scared"_

and all the silent terrified glances of two young boys asking, _"Is dad gone yet?"_ just so they could be able to breathe again.

 

_Exhale_

            Dean tried to push him away, thrashing his arms violently to get out of his grip, but Sam held on tighter, not wanting to let go.

Inhale

Feeling his own eyes welling up with tears, he did the only thing he knew how to. He traced small circles into Dean's back, letting him cry, and he cried too.

He held on, his arms around Dean, rocking gently back and forth just like Dean did for him the day their mom died.

Yea sure, it was unmanly of him and frankly if Dean wasn't bawling his eyes out, he'd say it was a chick flick moment and that he was acting like a bitch, which then, Sam would throw in a 'jerk'.

His heart warmed at the thought of it.

"I'll go back to school. I'm sorry, I'll go back okay?" he croaked, gripping Dean's shirt tighter, holding on to the happiness the two of them shared. "Let's not fight anymore. You're all I have and I don't want to lose you too. I can't lose you."

It was just Sam and Dean, the two wayward sons of a deadbeat absent father, holding the broken pieces of each other together, just the way it's always been.

_Exhale_


	11. Chapter 11

**_September 11, 2001_ **

            The scene in front of him faded in and out as the deafening sound of twisting and screeching metal caused vibrations to run through him. Every hair on his body was standing on edge and he could feel electricity traveling along his skin, hot and burning.

Somewhere deep inside himself, Sam found the strength to move again, coughing up black soot and what looked like blood against the not-so-white cuff of his shirt sleeve, as he struggled to sit up.

A searing pain shot up and down his arm at the sudden movement and he collapsed back down under the pressure.

His body felt like it was on fire, and he was back to that day he stood in a dingy motel room with blood dripping onto the carpet from the fresh wounds his own father gave him.

The reality of everything pushed to the background as a soft hazy glow settled around him. Suddenly the pain on his arm and on his face was nothing but the sting of the august sun on the shiny black door of his brother's Impala, causing him to jump a few feet back and yelp out in pain.

Dean's contagious laughter filled Bobby's junk yard and floated through the dingy motel room and echoed through the empty halls of the Twin Towers and everything was okay. Dean was there and it was all okay.

But it wasn't.

            Sam hadn't even heard Bela the first time she spoke because he was too caught up in his memories- and oh god, Dean. For practically their whole lives, all they had was each other to hold on to.  How could he just die in here and leave him all alone?

Dean, his big brother, the one who helped him with math homework and let him finish all the Lucky Charms most nights instead of having dinner.

The one who taught him how to talk to girls and told him that if she was as beautiful as mom was, he should marry her. To this day Sam's never told him that's why he loves Jess so much, but Dean already knows.

Dean knows everything about Sam.

He knows that Sam was never really afraid of the dark, he just made up excuses so he could be closer to his big brother, but Dean never brought it up because he liked the company. It was nice to not be so lonely all the time.

He knew that Sam's favorite cereal was Lucky Charms so even though Dean yelled at him because it was all he ate and there was almost never any left for him, whenever he went grocery shopping he didn't have the heart to not pick up a new box.

Dean knew that when Sam had a crush, he had it bad, and he teased him about it sometimes but most times he gave him good advice.

But most importantly Dean taught Sam how to love, how to be happy again after mom died and in some ways Sam helped Dean too.

They needed each other.

How could he just leave him alone like this?

            "You cut your arm" Bela said for the third time, shaking Sam from his thoughts yet again. Her voice was shaky and frantic and she looked at him wildly.

He looked back at her, baffled, tilting his head in confusion. He hadn't noticed how dizzy he was until he tried to focus on what she was saying but he couldn't tell if she had just one eye or four. It took him a moment to connect her words to the shooting pain he was feeling on his arm.

Nothing was worse than the burning feel he had in the back of his chest and throat at the thought of Dean.

"It was a big piece of glass. I tried to stop it from falling but I couldn't hold it" she said, raising her hands to reveal two open and bloody gashes on her palms.

 

_His heart froze in his chest when he saw him, crouched on the ground, tears streaking his red face and blood gushing from the fresh wounds on his palms and the shattered glass, all the glass._

There was so much blood everywhere and it was making his head spin even more.

He looked down to see Bela's blood-drenched sweater wrapped tightly around his forearm. It was barely enough to cover the gaping wound underneath.

"I-I did the best that I c-could" she stammered, eyeing him.

Sam slowly peeled back the sweater, cringing as the material caught onto a loose piece of red swollen flesh. Bela watched him intently as he inspected his arm.

The wound looked a lot worse than it felt, and it felt pretty bad. It was probably because of all the adrenaline pumping through his veins at the moment that he couldn't feel a damn thing, just the steady burn in his lungs.

            "We need to get out of here" he said turning his attention back to Bela after a few moments.

After everything Dean's done for him, he'd be damned if he didn't fight till the end to get out of here. If not for himself then for his older brother, sweet Dean who gave up everything and asked for nothing in return.

She nodded her head earnestly, a look of pure trust in her eyes. She trusted him with her whole life and he wasn't even sure if he trusted himself enough to get them both out of there alive.

Sam was never one for giving up though, so he shook the negative thoughts from his mind.

With a bit more struggle he was able to sit up fully using the muscles in his legs, rather than his arms to pull himself up. Once he was standing, it was like all his strength rushed back into his body and he used it to lift Bela up from the ground.

There was hope for them, no matter how small it was still something and Sam held onto it.

He'd almost forgotten that Bela's leg had been broken earlier and that she wouldn't be able to walk, which made things a lot more difficult. Her leg had now swollen up to double its size and was spotted with purple and blue lemon-sized bruises but Sam tried not to stare.

He didn't want to make her feel worse than she probably already felt. For fuck's sake, they were in a collapsing building, her leg was broken, his arm was nearly broken and they were running out of time to get out before it all came down on them.

Any little bit of hope they could get their hands would be a big help.

He propped an arm underneath her back and the other under both of her legs and made his way down the stairs again.

* * *

 

            "Dean!" Cas yelled, trying to keep up with his friend but it was nearly impossible. Dean was now sprinting at full speed down the debris-littered halls of the first floor, frantically searching for the door that led to the stairs and Cas couldn't keep up with him.

He tried to keep up, he really did, but Dean was running on pure adrenaline, nothing was slowing him down.

They didn't even know where Sam was in all this mess. Running through the building like this didn't make any sense there was no way they'd find him in time. For all they knew he could already be- no he wasn't going to think like that.

He had to stay positive. He prayed silently to himself that Sam had made it out already so that Dean and him could just leave and everyone could be safe and happy, well as happy as one can be in  a time like this.

"Dean slow down!" he yelled again but to no avail, because Dean's blurry form was suddenly engulfed by a sheet of thick, black smoke, disappearing completely from vision. Cas started to panic, moving his arms in front of him like he was trying to tread water but he was drowning.

            The fog was suffocating and nearly opaque, blocking his vision. He gasped for air as he started to panic, gruesome scenarios playing out in his mind.

What if he never got out of here alive? He thought about Balthazar who was probably hysterical right now after hearing the news. Had he even heard the news yet?

What if Cas never saw him again? He never even got say goodbye.

He thought back to this morning, how he slept in a little too late and was rushing to work, barely enough time to properly say goodbye, just a quick peck on the lips and an "okay okay, yes I love you too. I'll see you later!"

 But it was okay, because they were going to see each other later.

They would talk then. He would come home to Balthazar cooking his famous spaghetti, swatting Cas' hand away when he tried to taste a little.

 _"Go wash your hands!"_ Balthazar would yell playfully. Cas would groan and complain all the way to the bathroom but he would still do it all the same, just to make him happy. When he came back, he'd return the favor and slap Balthazar on the butt.

They would both laugh and smile and everything would be okay. It wouldn't matter that Cas didn't say goodbye this morning. They were together now.

But now they couldn't be. Cas was in the Twin Towers nearly suffocating to death, alone and afraid and he was going to die. He was going to die today.

All around him was destruction and from what he could see and feel through the veil of smoke, small fires had broken out lining the walls around him.

He called out to Dean one more time and when he got no answer he sighed heavily, putting his helmet on and flipping the face mask down.

Going any further into the building, mid-fall was practically a death wish, but he couldn't let Dean go in alone. He was his best friend and he just couldn't lose him. And Sam, Sam was like a little brother to him, the thought of losing him too was almost unbearable.

            Cas ran as fast as he could manage, thankful for his face mask and fireproof uniform when an eruption of dust and debris exploded into a fit of flames, lapping at his shoes and pants.

Everything was foggy and dark and it was hard to see anything through the soot but he could still hear Dean's voice clearly, a strained and broken sound, discordant and distressed, echoing through the vacant building.

"Sam! Sammy I'm here! Son of bitch, Sammy, I'm here! "

"S-sam" Cas tried out his vocal chords, but his throat was so dry. His tongue snaked out to wet his dry, chapped lips and he swallowed thickly but it was no use. He felt like he was just shriveling up in the heat but he pushed continued to push on, until something caught his attention.

Movement at the corner of his eye caused him to snap his head in the vague direction. It was an arm, bloody and mangled, flopping lifelessly onto the cold ground with a dull thud.

Had that person died while he was just standing here, feeling sorry for himself? He felt his blood run cold as he watched as a thin trail of dark red snaked out from underneath a large chunk of ceiling.

Had they heard the scuffle of his shoes across the floor, the strained voices of him and Dean calling out for Sam, and reached their hand out so they could be noticed.

They could've saved him, Cas thought to himself. His hands were trembling and each shaky breath felt like knives in his lungs.

A vision of Sam laying under hundreds of pounds of rubble, waiting to die, with no strength left to even call for help, came to his mind, making him feel dizzy.

His heart was beating rapidly in his chest and his stomach was lurching upwards with every step, threatening to come all the way up the further he went into the building.

He made a mental note that in his last moments, he would pray for the person, who died so brutally, so alone.

"Dean wait!" Cas cried out again but Dean couldn't hear him, no one could. Everyone was either already dead or soon to be.

He too was going to die today.

* * *

 

            Dean made it all the way up to the fifth floor before he was stopped dead in his tracks. He stared, dumbfounded at the avalanche of debris blocking the stairway up to the next floor.

"No no no" he said to himself slamming his fists into the chunks of cold, broken cement and metal and wood, like somehow the pieces would come crumbling down that easily.

He wracked his brain for a plan.

What if he wasn't able to get past this and find Sam? Even worse, what if he did find him...but he didn't like what he saw? What if he-, he couldn't even bring himself to think about Sam not making it out of this. The thought hadn't even crossed his mind as a possibility.

 Sam was strong, Sammy was a fighter. No way he was dying in here, his precious baby brother, his reason for waking up every day and living.

But seeing the staircase blocked off like this made the possibility all too real.

 Dean looked around frantically for something, anything that could help him, a pole, a piece of metal, anything big enough to pry the opening free. He needed to get to Sam, needed to know that he would be okay.

He began to use his hands to tear at the debris, tears stinging the back of his eyes, freshly cut wounds stinging his palms.

"Sam!" he yelled out over and over.   
His heart was heavy in his chest and it weighed him down as he worked on the opening, making his limbs weak and tired, like he'd been treading through molasses for hours on end.

"Sam!" he croaked.

            "Dean?"

Dean whirled around to see his best friend standing at the end of the hallway, panting and out of breath and covered in black soot.

Halfheartedly he smiled and a small wave of relief came over him, Cas was okay. Dean knew he left him alone back there and he felt terrible about it, he wouldn't be able to forgive himself if something happened to him in all this madness.

Hell, he honestly didn't know how he would survive without his best friend. But Sammy was in here. He made a promise seventeen years ago to his mom that he intended to keep.

He was happy that his friend was alive, but the empty feeling of not knowing if Sam was okay or not remained his constant focus and the tiny ripple of relief that coursed through him evaporated as his stomach began to twist in knots again. Sam was everything to Dean, everything he'd ever loved.

"Dean! Don't do this" Cas spoke, loud enough to be heard but barely audible over the constant groan of snapping metal.

"I can't leave him in there Cas. He's my brother and I was supposed to protect him. I promised!"

Cas wracked his brain to think of something to say, anything to convince Dean to stop. "You heard what they said Dean. The building will collapse in the nex-"

"Don't you dare say that to me" Dean shot back through clenched teeth. "Don't you dare fucking say that to me Cas. Don't give me that crap, because you of all people know what Sam means to me. If this building is collapsing and Sam's in it...I- I guess I'm going down too."

His last words caught in his throat and when he could no longer handle the look of pain on his best friend's face, he turned away and continued to claw at the blockade, his own blood painting the dark grey cement with a dull red.

"Sam!" he screamed over the noise.

            Cas watched helplessly, his feet cemented into the ground by fear. He thought of running away, it was his only chance. Dean was desperately clawing at the stairwell, oblivious to him. He could run away and make it out alive, he didn't have to end up like that person, cold and dead, and so alone.

He could turn away from this and never look back again. He could go home to Balthazar and have a happy life.

But how could he really live with himself if anything happened to Dean and Sam? How could he live with the fact that he left them in here, abandoned them.

"Dean please. Just...just think this through" Cas said carefully, walking slowly up to him. Dean apparently not hearing him continued to yell at the top of his lungs.

"Sam! Sammy!"

"We could get back up or something" Cas tried again. "The more people helping us, the easier it will be to find him."

"Sam!" Dean yelled even louder this time.

"Dean!?" a voice yelled from the other side of the blockade.

The voice was far away and barely audible but Dean knew it was Sam's voice, he wasn't just imagining it. A spark of hope ignited in his chest and a huge weight came off his shoulders.

Cas, who was blue in the face trying to save Dean, felt his knees buckle under him with release when he heard Sam's voice.

Dean's movements quickened with the hope of seeing Sam again, the pain on his hands and in his chest suddenly vanishing.

"Dean!" he yelled again, closer this time and Dean could tell he was right on the other side of the staircase now. "What do we do?!"

Dean turned to smile at Cas. "He's here! I knew he'd make it Cas. I always told you that Sammy was a fighter!" Tears of joy and relief flooded from his eyes as his words tumbled clumsily over each other, matching the awkward movements of his hands.

"Come over here and help me man! Sammy's here!"

Cas jogged the rest of the distance between them and began to tear at the debris with Dean.

            Just then, the building began to shake, a low and steady rumble.

One by one the pieces of debris that blocked the stairs began to fall away, clearing the passage little by little. When the hole was big enough, Dean reached his hand through it and held on tight to Sam's for just a moment. He needed to know he was there, and he was okay. Everything else could wait.

It was a quick and simple gesture really, but it was powerful; to them, it meant everything. Just as quickly they were snapped back into reality, the pieces continuing to fall around them.

When there was enough space for Bela to for through, but not quite big enough for Sam, he lifted her through placing her in Dean's arms, who told Cas to make sure she got out safely.

He turned and walked hastily towards the exit but stopped and hesitantly stood in the doorway with her in his arms. "Dean, I can't just leave you two--"

Dean only nodded at him silently. "We'll be okay Cas buddy. Just make sure she gets out okay? Don't come back in here either, no matter what. We'll be right behind you"

"But Dean we could just go together-"  
"No matter what happens Cas, don't you dare come back in here" Dean choked out, his voice wavering.

Cas took one last look at Dean before turning on his heels to leave. He wondered if he should've said goodbye just in case, or if he should tell Dean that he's the best friend he's ever had and he loved him, but he decided not to.

They'd be right behind him, they would make it out of this alive.

            By the time Cas made it outside with Bela and got her to a waiting ambulance, the building had already begun to collapse before his eyes.

"No no no" he said to himself over and over, watching the front door, waiting for Dean to come running out with Sam in tow.

But when they never came, he knew. He knew they weren't ever coming out again.

He felt sick to his stomach, a churning feeling making the Earth seem as if it was spinning too fast underneath him, like he could fall off at any moment.

And then he was floating, gravity just letting go of him and letting him drift off further and further away until he was looking over the city, watching the destruction from a distance. He watched as people crawled out to the sidewalk for safety, bloody and crying.

He watched as cops and firemen ran frantically through the streets, trying to help anyone they could.

Cas was nothing but the soft wind blowing between the tall buildings, whistling through open windows and brushing against the leaves in the trees, making soft ripples on the brown silk blanket of the Hudson River.

Then all at once, gravity came full force, slamming him back down onto the cool cement with a loud thud. Every bone in his body felt broken, his skin shredded and torn, like flames ripping him apart, but when he looked down at himself, he was fine.

It wasn't his body, but the body of a young woman lying still on the ground nearby. She had an almost peaceful expression on her face, hauntingly serene compared to what she must have felt in the moments before she plunged to her death from an open window. Flying as free as the breeze on a summer morning, right before the sun comes up and then crashing down at terrifying speeds, unable to stop her weight from dragging her down before...

 

_Thud_

            Cas would never forget the sound her body made as it hit the cool pavement, the sound that would echo in his head for years to come. Her limbs were mangled and bloody but her face was so peaceful, one would think she was happily dreaming.

He looked down at her name tag that glinted in the morning sunlight.

Nancy.

So young and so beautiful she was. She didn't deserve to die this way.

Cas willed himself to believe that she was far, far away from here, somewhere beautiful and quiet, a place where hundreds of people didn't die, a place where there were no worries.

But her body...her body was here in this hell of a place, where hundreds of people did die.

 

Where she died.

_Thud._

_Dead._

            Without thinking Cas ran back into the building taking the steps three at a time, his heart pounding in his chest.

Fuck what Dean said. There was still hope that him and Sam could both make it out of this alive and Cas wasn't gonna just let his friends die and watch it happen.

He thought of the person who died in the moments he stood inside the building, their lifeless arm finally hitting the ground as they took their last breath.

For all they knew, Sam and Dean could still be alive and breathing, barely, but it was still something and Cas wasn't ready to give up on them.

"Castiel come back here! You can't go in there while this building is falling. Castiel!"

Crowley came running after him with the rest of the squad in tow but he ignored them, only running faster, increasing the distance between him and the rest of them.

His head spun as he ran through the building, tears burning at the back of his eyes, blurring his already scanty vision. Streaks of black and gray and silver flashed in front of him, his heart growing more heavy with each step he took.

The men kept a steady pace behind him, Crowley calling out to him through the thick smoke.

He kept running, despite the fire in his chest, despite his legs threatening to give out on him, he kept pushing forward.

He wasn't giving up on Dean and Sam.

"Castiel!"

Not knowing what to expect, the men cursed as swinging debris came their way, adding to the sweltering flames that lined the walls and the ceiling. It was a deathly obstacle course, one wrong move and it was all over for them, giving Cas an advantage because he'd ran through here before.

Luckily for the men, though Cas was quick and knew the building better than they did, he hadn't made it past the fifth floor that was almost completely folded in on itself.

            He had his back turned towards the doorway and was stopped dead in his tracks, shoulders rising and falling heavily as he tried to catch his breath.

"We never go in without back up. What the hell were you thinking?" Crowley barked.

Cas didn't answer, and the building was eerily quiet, ghostly almost, if not for the sounds of the men trying to catch their breaths.

"And where the hell is Winchester? He was with you before! Castiel?" he asked and stepped forward to touch his shoulder.

Cas crumpled under the contact, his knees hitting the hard ground, sobs wracking through his worn down body.

 

_Thud._

 

There they were, Dean and Sam.

_Thud._

_Dead._


	12. Chapter 12

**_May 10, 1998_ **

             Dean spent all morning in front of the mirror, brushing his hair and making sure he looked absolutely perfect, even from his seat all the way in the audience. He wanted to make sure, everything was perfect so when he was not adjusting something on himself, he was fixing Sam up, either fussing with his tie or trying to fix his hair, which in Sam's opinion didn't need to be fixed.

"When are you ever gonna cut that hair Sammy?" he asked. "It's almost as long as Jess'."

Jess, who was in the kitchen gossiping with Jo, peeked her head into the living room to stick her tongue out at him, which he returned with a sly smirk.

 Sam ignored his brother's taunts and instead started to do another quick run through of his valedictorian speech in his head.

"You ready for your big day?" Jess asked, coming in from the kitchen. "This is it" she said, gripping his tie and pulling him in closer to her. She smiled brightly, her blue eyes sparkling with excitement.

"Yea baby, I am. Just really nervous about this speech" Sam replied, wrapping his arms around her waist. "You know how many people are gonna be there today?"

"You'll do great, I promise!" Jess leaned in for a quick kiss which Sam held for longer, pulling her back in impossibly close when she tried to pull away.

"Hey, you crazy kids, save that for later we have a graduation to get to!" Dean said, smirking at Sam who shot him a dirty look over his girlfriend's head.

From outside, a car honked it's horn about fifty times in a row, followed by the sound of a rusty car door slamming shut and feet against the gravel driveway.

Good, Bobby was finally here. Now they could all leave and get there on time.

When they finally arrived to the stadium where the graduation was being held, Sam was whisked away by one of the disgruntled faculty members. Being Valedictorian meant that he was supposed to arrive fifteen minutes earlier, not fifteen minutes later than everyone else.

They would just have to wait until after the ceremony to take pictures. Barely ten minutes had passed before music began to play, signaling the start of the ceremony. Sam took a couple of deep breaths to calm himself.

As the graduates walked down the long hallway leading to the stadium, they could hear the muffled voice of President Smith opening the ceremony, each step closer, his voice became more and more clear until they were right outside the entry.

"Ladies and gentleman, please give a warm welcome to the graduates of the Class of 1998!"

            Walking through the stadium felt surreal, thousands of people cheering and clapping and stomping their feet. It took him a short while but then he spotted Dean in the audience.

            His smile, brilliantly bright and cheesy to all hell, could be seen from the last row of seats where Sam was. Dean was more excited about today than Sam was, and he wasn't even the one graduating.

Although, if he really thought about it, this was as much Dean's graduation as it was his. He gave up so much in his life and for Sam to have graduated from not only high school but now college too, he'd be damned if anyone denied Dean this and he sure as hell wasn't going to.

The opening speeches were pretty dull and Sam daydreamed through them, thinking about what life would be like after this.

Every so often Dean would raise the camera up and snap a photo or two, of what, Sam had no clue but he didn't bother to motion for him to put it away.

This was a special day, so he would give him a pass for being embarrassing. Sam flashed a smile back that he was sure he would see.

 From the audience, Dean and his fiancé Jo waved eagerly, like two proud parents. Bobby rolled his eyes humorously and Sam could practically hear him saying "stop waving like a buncha damn fools, ya idjits!"

Jo was a big part of Sam's life too, whether it was helping him get through his Science courses, which were never really his strong suit, or just being there for Dean and him when they were going through tough times with their dad.

She was like the big sister Sam never had. She knew everything about their family and her and Ellen were practically already a part of their family, so it just worked. His heart warmed as he watched her and his girlfriend Jess whisper back and forth in the audience, sharing laughs every so often.

And Bobby, he was a better father to Sam and Dean than John ever was. He never let them down, ever. Bobby practically raised them himself after John left. He didn't have to do it. He could've left them at a group home or something but instead he took them in and raised them as his own.

And Jess, well she was the love of his life. Sam never met any girl as perfect and beautiful as her and he knew from the moment he met her his freshman year, that he would marry her someday.

Hell, it could be Jess' graduation too and Jo's and Bobby's too. Sam didn't mind sharing, especially with the people that he loved, people that meant the world to him, the ones who never gave up on him.

They're the reason he's here today, graduating from college and not a homeless alcoholic like his father.

"We will begin to call the graduates up in alphabetical order by last name. Due to the large amount of graduates and in consideration of other people's families, we would appreciate if you could hold your applause until all graduates are called."

Sam groaned.

Of course his last name had to be Winchester, making him basically the last person of eight hundred to be called up. He sat back comfortably in his seat and listened as each name was called.

When the announcer began to read the 'T's' he began to get nervous. This was the big moment, the moment he's been waiting for practically all his life.

            "Sam Winchester, graduating at the top percent of his class as valedictorian of the school of law, with honorary designation and summa cum laude."

When his name was called after the  eight hundred other people graduating from the school of law, he took a deep breath to ground himself, nervous about his upcoming speech.

Sam stood up proudly, warmth spreading from somewhere deep in his chest, traveling through his body and all the way down to his toes.

It was a new feeling, not the one of sleepless nights and exhausted mornings. It wasn't the heart wrenching feeling of trying to make an absent father proud despite his lack of care. Even worse, the look of disappointment on his older brother's face when he did something wrong, the same older brother who would do anything for him, would die for him.

It wasn't any of those feelings.

It was a good feeling. One where he could smile again, a real genuine smile that comes from the deepest corners of your heart, the most hidden parts of your soul. A smile that you can't suppress no matter how hard you try, like you're being tickled.

And it feels pretty damn good.

He can't remember the last time he's felt so happy and he relishes in it.

Sam walked carefully to the center of the stage, his anticipation growing with each step closer.

Dean and Jo were now standing, cheering and clapping despite the requests that the audience hold their applause until all graduates are called.

Their little stunt earns them dirty looks from a few and a chuckle from others but Sam, he beams from the top of his head to the tip of his toes, all six-foot-five of him.

He couldn't even be angry or embarrassed by them as he laughed out loud, his tears blurring his vision. It was like a dream, holding the diploma in his hands, finally making it.

            He looked back at a smiling Dean and felt a pang of sadness in his heart because he knows his brother will never have this.

He'll never hear his name called at a college graduation,  never get the thanks he deserves, and it makes Sam sad to think about it.

With everything he's done and everything he's given up, he won't have anything to show for it, partly because of the circumstances and partly because of his own stubborn mission to give up everything for Sam.

Sam made a silent promise that he'd always thank Dean for everything. Life was too short to wait and it was something that needed to be done.

But then he has an idea. He's moments away from reciting his speech as valedictorian when it comes to him, a way he can repay a little bit back to Dean. It's not much but he needs to do it.

He waits until two more names are called and then it's his cue.

 

"Good afternoon ladies, gentleman, Dean Andrews, Dean Williams, President Smith, and fellow graduates. Today I want to thank you all for coming out and supporting us graduates as we embark on our journey in life. The beginning of the rest of our lives starts today and on behalf of my fellow graduates, we are so very thankful for all of you who came out today to support us. So uh...I had a speech all written out and rehearsed and prepared to say today but in the moments as I walked on stage, it just didn't seem right. My speech was pretty much like all the others you've ever heard at a college graduation. And if this is your first college graduation then it was exactly how you've seen it on every TV show. Basically, despite my hours and hours of writing and rewriting, it was just like everyone else's,  basic. So I decided that today, I'm gonna do something a little different and tell you guys a story."

            He felt his stomach clench with nerves and he took another deep breath to calm himself. He glanced over to his family in the audience where Dean and Jo furrowed their eyebrows in confusion.

Sam went over that speech with them almost a million times until it was perfect; they could probably go up and recite it themselves, that's how many times they've heard it. And now he was just throwing it all away?

The crowd grew quiet waiting for him to begin again and he looked over to Dean again who held up his hands, questioning 'what the hell Sammy?'

Sam cleared his throat and swallowed thickly before beginning, wincing at the feedback from the microphone as it pierced the silence.

 

 _"4.3"_ he began, his voice echoing throughout the stadium.

_"4.2, 4.0, 3.8, 3.5, 3.0, 2.5, Fail."_

He took a quick pause before beginning again, feeling the warmth of the sun beaming down on him, warming his skin.

_"So, there was this young boy who, for his whole life, was at the top of his class. He got the best grades, was well behaved and did everything right. He never got into trouble and never even failed a test. Everyone thought it came easy to him, especially his classmates. They would say 'he never studies and still gets all A's.' and 'Of course HE got the highest grade in the class.' But what they didn't know was that he actually did work hard for his grades, worked harder than any other kid his age and probably more than most adults too. He stayed in most nights when his friends were out having fun, he studied even when he didn't have to because what they didn't know was that his mother died when he was so young he barely remembers her face, so young he can't remember her voice and the way she used to sing to him. What they didn't know is that his father became so depressed that he ruined his life with alcohol and left his two sons alone in a motel room for a month. They didn't know he was homeless and hungry for a month, living in that rundown motel until their 'uncle' found them. Except he wasn't even really their uncle. But it didn't matter, he was the only father they ever knew, the only family they had left, and it would have to do. They didn't know anything about his life and he wouldn't let them find out. So the boy gave up his whole social life just to stay at the top of class. Neurotic? Sure. Crazy? Probably. But no matter what they said about him he just kept on pushing, striving towards being the best. He had to...Why?_

_"He had an older brother. This young boy with no mother, no father, and no home, would be lost if it wasn't for his brother."_

Sam paused to look directly at Dean for a moment. There was a gasp from the audience that he knew came from the section where he was sitting.

_"His brother was funny, smart, charming, caring, kind, and everything that this boy ever knew as being good. His brother was everything he'd ever hoped to be when he grew up. He looked up to his older brother and to this day, he still does. But when their father left them, the boy started to notice that his brother started skipping school a lot but would always be there at the end of the day, waiting for the boy to come back, taking his bag from him and asking how his day was. Sometimes he'd even bring him snacks. The boy wanted to ask why his brother barely went to school anymore but he didn't know how to bring it up, so he didn't ask. Then suddenly, the boy  started going to a much better private school and his brother stopped going to school all together. It'd been months, almost a year since he'd gone to school and the boy asked their uncle if he knew why his brother didn't go to school anymore. By now, it was killing him. He had to find out why. That day, the boy found out that his brother had dropped out to help pay the bills, to help pay for his new private school. After that day, the boy was changed for the rest of his life it seemed. It made him angry that their father left them and put this burden on their 'uncle' and his brother. He was angry that they didn't have enough money for nice things. He felt like he was taking the easy way out, staying in school. He would beg his brother to let him drop out every single day. He could help with the bills too. He was smart, he could pick up on fixing cars and in no time he could be just as good as his brother. He'd argue that it'd be easier if they both made money to pay bills, but his brother refused. He fought tooth and nail with his brother but he never won. And it went on and on and soon the boy began to get bad grades on purpose so he could be kicked out instead. It was easier that way than trying to convince his older brother to let him drop out of school. Even then, his older brother would STILL not let him quit on himself and before he knew it, he was failing all of his classes. He was going on a downward spiral that he couldn't fix, couldn't make right no matter how hard he tried. He'd given up on himself long before, so he wasn't sure why his brother still hadn't. All he'd say to him is 'I know you're smart. You can do this, I believe in you.' And though his brother felt hopeless at times, like the little advice he could give wasn't good enough, it meant the world to the boy. So he turned his life around. He went to school with a renewed attitude about not only school, but life._

_The end? Not quite. The young boy, now a young man, stayed in school, worked his way back up to the top and even got into one of America's top universities. Summa cum laude, valedictorian, top of his class, he made it._

_He learned to never give up on himself and to this day he's still fighting to stay at the top. Why does he keep fighting?_

_Because he owes everything that he is to his older brother."_

He pauses to look in Dean's direction.

_I owe everything that I am to my older brother, Dean Winchester. I would like to welcome my brother Dean, if you could please stand._

_We made it Dean. We did it."_

   He watched as his brother stood up slowly, the audience erupting into a sea of applause. The look on his face said everything. Even Jo and Bobby were wiping their tears streaked cheeks with the backs of their hands.

He promised that he'd make him proud and give him something to show for all his hard work and he finally felt like he was able to give a little back to the man who gave everything for him.

 

"This man, ladies and gentleman is the example of what I hope for not only myself, but for all of us. Yes, we are all graduating with law degrees are gonna make tons of money even in our very first jobs, because we earned it. We did.

But what I hope for all of us is that we learn to have the courage to give everything we are in to everything that we do, so one day we can look back at our accomplishments and think 'we made it.'

Graduating class of 1998, this is our time to be the heroes, like my big brother Dean, who change the future, who never give up on something we believe in and watch it grow and succeed.

It won't always be easy, and sometimes you'll want to quit. But just think of it like a little brother, you can't really get rid of it so you might as well stick with it.

Thank you everyone for coming out today and supporting us graduates as we embark on our journey and thank you Dean, for always sticking by me.

Fellow graduates, let us take life head on and be not only great and successful lawyers, but let's be like my big brother Dean, heroes."

 

            By the end of his speech, Sam could feel his hands shaking uncontrollably, everyone in the stadium cheering and applauding but the only thing he cared about was his family. Jo and Jess dabbed at their cheeks with tissues and Bobby held Dean in a tight embrace and Sam wanted nothing but to run over to them.

It was his family, it was little and broken, but good. Yeah, still good.

For the remainder of the ceremony, Sam thought about what he would say when he finally met up with Dean again. What more could he say? He was barely  holding it together, the tears stinging at the back of his eyes as he willed them to not drop.

It wasn't until the graduation ended and he was nearly toppled over by a proud Dean, that he broke down. Completely and unashamedly, he bawled into his brother's shoulder not even caring who was watching.

"Hey, hey" Dean comforted pulling Sam away to look at him.

His eyes had the same reassurance they did that day, nineteen years ago, when Sam cried and cried and kept asking why their mom had to die.

            Now instead of saying, "we'll get through this," Dean's words are, "we made it."

The only thing this does is make Sam cry harder.

As he looked at his family, he felt a wrench of sadness in his chest when he didn't see his father's face among the smiles. He knew better to expect him to be here but some small part of him thought that maybe he would change.

Maybe for one day, he would sober up enough to make it today and just in case Sam got five tickets. Some small part of him hoped that his Dad would be there to give him a hug and say 'I love you' and 'I'm proud.'

But of course, he was only left with disappointment and resentment.

Knowingly, Dean nodded and pulled Sam in for another tight embrace, attempting to fix yet another of John's wounds.

_This one is from Dad._

"So who wants pie?" he asked, looking around.

Sam chuckled and  nodded. "Pie actually sounds good for once."

Everyone piled into the Impala and drove down the road to the Roadhouse where Ellen, and  more of Sam's friends were waiting with food, drinks, balloons, and yes, lots and lots of pie.

****


	13. Chapter 13

**Yesterday**

            Cas lie there for what felt like an eternity, his body heavy and trembling over the ones underneath him and he couldn't make himself move. His limbs felt like cement, heavy and cold, and his muscles ached from staying in the same position for too long but it didn't matter, nothing did anymore.

The memory of earlier, when the wind flew lightly through the windows of the fire station, blowing idle strands of dark hair in front of his eyes, seemed far away. The echoes of Dean's effortless laugh floated freely through his mind as only a figment of his memory.

He squeezed his eyes shut, willing himself back to the station, willing himself to somehow push back the hands of time, to escape this hell and go back to a happier time, a time where such happiness was tangible and real.

Instead, he was left groping blindly in the darkness for something that was already long gone.

One by one the other men began to leave, their heads bowed in sorrow, some of them were crying but most were quiet.

Crowley was the last to go, lingering in what was left of the tattered doorframe.

Minutes of silence passed before he called out to Cas again but no matter how many times he tried to pry him off, or how many times he told him he needed to get checked out by the paramedics, Cas didn't budge. He couldn't.

He already left once, how could he do it again?

"Cas-" Crowley began again once the other men were gone, but when there was no answer, whatever he was going to say died down in his throat as he glanced uncomfortably between Cas and the two lifeless bodies in his embrace.

He shifted his gaze back to him, sighing loudly, and with that he walked out after the rest of the men. Even after he finally gave up, Cas stayed.

He remained gripping to the bodies, willing them to wake up and live. But that's all that they were now; bodies. They were no longer his friends who laughed and smiled and breathed life from their pores, with eyes as green as summer grass.

These were just bodies, cold and nameless, their eyes just glassy marbles of dull green.

            Cas sobbed loudly until he had no tears left in him, and even then, he choked and gasped for air, gripping tightly onto the charred shirt of one of the bodies, the dirty yellow uniform of the other.

His tears blurred his vision, blending yellow, with red and black and it would almost be beautiful if it wasn't blood and dirt, warm and sticky on his hands and the yellow uniform identical to his own.

This was his fault, he thought. He should've stayed with them.

His chest constricted as he coughed violently, the blackened air threatening to steal all the oxygen away from him in its greedy little hands, twisting and wringing his lungs out till they were nothing but shriveled masses in his chest, anchoring him to the cold, hard floor.

The coughs created vibrations through him like electricity, coursing along his veins and leaving his body buzzing with adrenaline and fear and devastation, but all he could do was lie there with his heaving lungs and scorching skin, listening to the steady drip-drop of water on concrete.

After some time though, he stopped trembling and his body went completely still, like death had taken his soul too, his eyes focused on nothing in particular. It was now completely silent, nothing but the sound of Cas' shallow breaths and the vacant sounds of the building echoing through all the empty spaces.

He listened to the steady drop of water from the fire hoses, as it plopped against the cold concrete around him, flinching as each drop fell like an explosion. He stretched his hand out to feel the cool water and watched as it dripped onto his hand, washing away the dried blood that collected underneath his nails.

An idle breeze flew in through the gaping hole in the building and danced across his skin, Dean's laugh floating lightly along the wind, Sam's smile in the warmth of the rays of sun and Cas closed his eyes again to take in the sensations.

            When the paramedics came in, they lifted him up from the ground with minimal effort, his body rigid and stiff, but with no resistance. Only then, did he find the strength to move again, but only to turn his head away from the two bodies, the ones with his friends' faces.

As he was led out of the building, two men on either side of him to hold him up, he finally let all of his weight go, the load of everything piling on top of him and suffocating him as fresh air hit his skin. His heart slammed against his chest and he frantically tried to catch his breath, looking around wildly as people buzzed by in each and every direction.

Everything was happening so fast and before he could even regain his composure and feel the sun on his skin, someone was in front him, balling his uniform up in their fists and pushing him roughly backwards.

He tripped clumsily over his own feet as he was led back towards the building, his mind just as clumsily trying to make sense of what was happening. He caught a small glimpse of dark hair and dark eyes and the scent of liquor filled his nostrils before he recognized who it was.

"Where the hell is my son?!" the man yelled over and over, shaking him violently by the shoulders. "You're his friend, aren't you? Where is he? Where is Dean?!"

Cas just stood there, dumbfounded for a moment before he could even bring himself to speak. "I-I don't-" he stammered, but stopped when he noticed the tears that streaked his face and his bloodshot, red eyes.

He'd been crying.       

At first he was taken aback by the tears that streamed down the man's face, this man whose addiction to the bottle was eating him alive and consuming his whole life. This same man who beat his children till they were black and blue, was standing in front of him crying and begging for his sons.

They stared at each other for a while, neither of their mouths saying anything, but the other man's dark eyes filling in the silence with a thick sort of tension, the kind of tension that chokes out all of the air.

Cas' stomach churned as he struggled to muster up the words in a logical form. But how could he even form the words when he hadn't even come to terms with the reality?

Sensing Cas' discomfort, John finally spoke up, his hoarse voice slicing through the thick tension.

"Dean?" he asked. "And Sam?"

The unspoken answer hung heavy in the air and Cas almost wished for the black smoke instead; at least he understood that kind of suffocation.

He couldn't bring himself to say yes, or no, or whatever it was that he was supposed to be saying. He found himself opening and closing his mouth around the answer but nothing was coming out. But it didn't matter, John already knew the answer all along.

John nodded aggressively, causing the new tears that rimmed his eyes to fall against his cheeks and for a moment he contemplated reaching out to Cas, yearning for the comfort he so longed for from his sons, something he would probably never get again.

Cas almost reached out too but froze, at the sound of squeaky wheels against the pavement behind him, only half turning to see a group of paramedics rolling two stretchers out towards the ambulances littering the street.

His heart sped up again, pounding against his chest and making his whole body shake with the vibrations.

He watched as the color drained from John's face, leaving him pale and dead-looking, as his expression turned to a look of horror.

"My boys" he whispered, barely audible over the sound of the wind and the sound of the blood rushing in his own ears.

            All he could see were his two sons, Dean barely a teenager yet, Sam just a small kid, purple and blue bruises spotted up and down their arms and legs and then he blinked and they were adults.

He rushed up to their sides, grabbing hold of their hands and they were so cold, so lifeless.

"Sir I'm gonna need you to back away. Please sir you can't-"

"They're my sons" he said, squeezing their hands tighter hoping they'd squeeze back.

"I'm sorry sir but I need you to back away" a woman said to him placing a hand on his shoulder, which he violently shrugged off.

"They're my boys! Tell them they're my sons!" he yelled, yanking Cas roughly by his bicep, causing him to unwillingly look at the faces of the two bodies.

This whole time, he tried so hard not to look at their faces, thinking maybe, if he didn't look at their faces then it would make it less real. He wouldn't have to confront the fact that his friends really were dead, and that they weren't ever coming back.

It was Sam and Dean.

"My boys" John cried over and over, weeping onto Dean's side.

Cas' stomach clenched at the sight of them. Dean had a few scratches here and there, dirt leaving a film of dark grey on his face but Sam, he got the worst of it.

A gash above his nose revealed white bone underneath and it was clear that it was broken in half and the whole left side of his face was burnt like the button-down shirt that hung off his lifeless frame.

Cas stared in horror, as bright red and pink blossomed on the white cloth of the stretcher beneath Sam's head.

_We'll be right behind you._

And John, a broken shell of a man weeping for all the mistakes he made in his life, wishing he would have died instead of his sons.

Cas backed away until his back was against the cold cement wall of the building and he collapsed to the ground, as he felt like the world was spinning too fast for him to hold himself up. He clutched at his chest, unsuccessfully trying to catch his breath.

"Sir, calm down. You need to calm down" a calm voice said to him, but there were hundreds of people around and he couldn't figure out who's voice it was. The only thing he could pay attention to was the sky.

A ray of light peeked through the black clouds that hung over him and everything was going back to normal like Cas' soul wasn't ripped right out from his chest, like poor, beautiful Nancy didn't die too young, like it didn't matter that Sam wouldn't get married and Dean wouldn't have kids, like none of them even mattered to the grand scheme of the universe.

And they didn't.

Life would go on, people would eventually move on with their lives, but they never will.

* * *

_" We'll be okay Cas buddy. Just make sure she gets out okay? Don't come back in here either, no matter what. We'll be right behind you"_

_"But Dean we could just go together-"  
"No matter what happens Cas, don't you dare come back in here"_

_Cas hesitated for a moment before tightening his grip on Bela and bounding down the stairs, disappearing amongst the falling debris and flames._

_"Okay, Sammy we're almost there okay? Don't give up on me just yet!" Dean yelled a little too loudly, still clearing the staircase where Sam was trapped. His six-foot-four frame and long limbs couldn't fit through the same hole that Bela escaped through and it would take much more digging for him to get out._

_The lack of oxygen was finally getting to Sam's head and he swayed dizzily as he groped at the debris blocking the stairwell."Hey! Stay with me!" Dean yelled over and over, making sure he wouldn't pass out._

_After all of this, Dean wasn't gonna let him go out like that- or at all._

_He began to work frantically as he felt time running out. It was only a matter of time before the entire building began to collapse in on itself._

_Just in time, he removed the last of the big pieces and Sam was able to topple through, falling sloppily into his brother's waiting arms, apparently in worse shape than Dean thought._

_The side of his face was scratched to shreds, revealing dark red flesh pulsating as blood rushed down, drenching his white shirt. His head lolled lazily to one side and his body sagged a bit in Dean's arms._

_"Hey!" Dean said, tapping Sam lightly on the cheek to keep him alert. "Stay with me here Sammy. You gotta stay with me, okay?"_

_Sam nodded, but swayed forward with the weight of his body. Dean sighed and perched an arm behind Sam to help him balance. "I got you Sammy. You're doing great okay? We're almost out of here."_

_Dean kept speaking encouraging words, increasing his volume each time he felt Sam slump against him and letting his weight go freely. All he had to do was keep Sam awake and get him out of the building and everything was going to be okay._

_Suddenly, the familiar slow groan of metal pierced the air and the only thing Dean can remember is the throbbing pain and a hot liquid pouring over the arm he held behind his brother's back for support._

_Sam let go of all his weight and went tumbling forward bringing his brother down with him. Dean stared in dread as red flowed from the back of Sam's head and into his hair._

_"No! No, Sammy stay with me okay? Sammy you gotta-" Dean begged, lifting his head up every time his chin drooped down to his chest._

_"Please."_

_Silence was his answer._

_He swallowed thickly, realizing that the gash on the back of Sam's head was fatal and he wasn't going to live through this. Sam groaned loudly as Dean rolled him onto his back, still reassuring him that everything was going to be okay._

_"It's okay Sammy, I've got you" he said, rocking his younger brother back and forth in his arms, fighting back the lump in his throat._

_"Dean-" Sam croaked, "Dean, you can get out of here, you still have time to-"_

_"No Sam" Dean snapped, continuing to hold on tight to Sam._

_"Dee."_

_Dean's chest tightened at the juvenile nickname his younger brother gave to him, the first name he learned to say as soon as he could talk._

_"I'm not leaving you here damn it!" Dean yelled and Sam stayed quiet, focusing on his labored breaths instead._

_"Don't do this Dean. Don't be an idiot" Sam tried again._

_"I might be an idiot, but I won't leave you here Sammy. I've got you" he said over and over, "It's all gonna be okay soon."_

_Silence._

_Sam's breath slowed down so much that Dean held his hand in front of his nose just to feel the light tickle of his exhale against his skin. And that's when Dean knew it was bad, Sammy was stubborn. He would fight Dean for everything, especially something like this. But instead, he just gave up fighting, his breaths shaking his entire body as he squeezed his eyes shut._

_Eventually Dean nodded--mostly to himself-- finally accepting Sam's fate and choosing his own fate. He winced in pain as he reached into his pocket for a pen to scrawl a quick note on a wrinkled piece of paper. The note read:_

_'I'm so sorry Jo. I love you'_

_It didn't do this justice. He didn't get to say all that he wanted to her but his time was running out, the gash in his arm throbbing as all the blood left his body_

_The last thing Dean remembered was a broken "I love you" from Sam and the weight of his brother's sagging body against his, and then everything was white hot. He lied down on his back, next to his brother as a searing pain sliced through his chest and scorched his lungs._

_"See you soon."_

_Then everything went black._

* * *

 

**Tomorrow**

            Several months later and the sun still rose in the East and set in the West. The Earth still spun around it's axle signifying the passing days and nights, and the summer blended into the crisp fall and eventually froze over into the bitter winter.

The hands of the clocks still ticked by and the sun still shined brightly like the eleventh day of September was just another Tuesday morning in September.

Tuesday turned into Wednesday, then into Thursday and Friday and all the way back to Tuesday again.

            John finally got his life together and stopped nursing the bottle long enough to get a job. He worked maintenance at a local public high school, barely making enough money to pay rent for a cheap apartment, but it was still something.

It was enough money for him to feed himself a buy new clothes and shoes to wear to work.

Out of the kindness of his heart, Bobby took him in  where he pays his rent by working part-time in Bobby's mechanic shop, when he's not working at the school.

He was doing well--for an alcoholic whose life was stolen from him by a nasty addiction.

He cleaned up around the house and at times he even bought food for Bobby too, sitting down together for dinner and making small talk, talking circles around the obvious heartache that filled the room.

 With the extra money he had left over, John would split it evenly in half, always offering it to Jo and Jess every chance he got.

It was his way of paying them back for all he's took from them in the past, his way of reaching out to them, but they would never accept the money. His envelopes were always just sent back unopened, unnoticed.

They couldn't bring themselves to accept anything from him, not even an apology.

Four months sober and he couldn't feel more intoxicated. Like instead of drowning in liquor, he drowned in his thoughts and his depression, an endless sea of black, leaping up to consume him time after time.

The days felt more like years, the weeks, like eternities and he couldn't ever escape it. So he takes it by the seconds, trying to see the beauty of the small things because otherwise he found himself drowning.

He'd wake from nightmares of black smoke filling his lungs and choking him and when he'd look again it would be Sam, or Dean suffocating him, blaming him for everything. And they were right.

It was all his fault.

Some nights he'd wake up drenched in sweat, crying out for Mary, reaching for her. But she's never there when he opens his eyes. Eventually he'd stop sleeping all together, spending his nights working late hours in the garage.

            Not only did Jo and Jess ignore John's attempts to mend his wrong doings, they stopped talking to each other. Maybe because their lives didn't connect anymore, or maybe because it was just too painful because it would be a reminder of what was missing in their lives.

There would be no more Thanksgiving dinners and Christmas parties, no raising babies together or visiting the in-laws. All of it--gone.

Jess stopped eating, wasting away until she was stick-thin, her skin losing its natural glow to a pale almost translucent white, bright blue veins trailing her face and her arms. Her normally golden locks, now fell limp on her shoulders, sometimes coming out in clumps in the shower.

Her bright blue eyes faded to a more dull grey, all the color draining to the bags underneath her eyes, dark circles accentuating her sad, sunken eyes.

At times she'd get so cold that she'd shiver for no reason, bundling herself in heaps of blankets and sheets but nothing was able to warm her up completely, the empty space in her bed like a sinkhole, taking her down with it.

Around work, people would stare and flash her sympathetic looks when she caught them looking, but what did they know? They didn't know what it was like to feel so empty inside.

They didn't know that it wasn't supposed to be like this, that she was supposed to have an October wedding. So even though she lost all the weight, she still went to the bridal shop to get a fitting for her dress.

She found the perfect gown and when she looked in the mirror she smiled to herself and said, "this is perfect."

"I'm having an October wedding" she said, turning to the woman employee helping her try on the dresses.

And even though her collarbones jutted out in all the wrong places, screaming starvation, and the delicate strap of the dress slipped down and looked awkward and out of place on her now, bony shoulder, she bought the dress anyways.

She took it home and would try it on again to make sure it was just right.

After all, she was having an October wedding. She was running out of time.

            Jo on the other hand stopped showing up to work and interacting with other people. At first she'd take a day or two off here and there and it became more frequent until she stopped going altogether.

She'd spend her days off laying in bed, only getting up to use the bathroom and -sometimes- get food.

At night, she'd stay up watching the shadows dance across the wall in her bedroom, and under the cloak of nightfall, she'd cry for Dean. If she stayed up to a certain time, just before the sun came up, when the moon was directly outside of her window, it would shine into the room and illuminate the glass jar on her dresser that read:"Honeymoon Change" in childish scrawl.

And then the sun would come up, painting the clear jar blazing reds and oranges and she'd cry more because Dean loved the sunrise and she loved the sunset and it almost always ended in an argument--that she won of course.

It wasn't until now, that she realized what he saw in the sunrise, and maybe he was right. It was beautiful. And now, all she had left was a jar full of loose change and empty dreams.

Now, she had to watch the sun rise and set every single day without him.  

            Cas was depressed for a while after the funeral, refusing to eat or sleep for periods at a time. It felt like an infinite darkness surrounding his life.

Dean's last words "we'll be right behind you," always echoed in his head, reminding him that it was his fault they died.

Cas would wake up some nights, choking and coughing, telling Balthazar that it was the black smoke again, chasing him, suffocating him.

Eventually though, like most things, he moved on. He stopped having the dreams of black smoke and everything felt like it would be okay. He would visit Sam and Dean's graves with Balthazar, always making sure to leave fresh flowers for them.

Sometimes he'd stay there for hours, just talking to them like they were right in front of them.

It was almost like things were back to normal except for the sounds. Every now and then he hears Dean's voice and sees his smile.

_We'll be right behind you._

But he no longer blames himself for them dying. He knows that they were in fact behind him, like his guardian angels. Again, in the building, when he lie over their lifeless bodies amongst the debris and the wreckage. He walked away without a scratch and it bring him peace to think Sam and Dean were watching over him.

Even though he's doing much better, he still hears the echoes of explosions when it rains. Sometimes it'll be so bad that he'll curl up in a ball and clamp his hands over his ears to block out the noise.

But he's alive and okay and he's getting better. Things are getting better.

            Winter thawed out into spring again and John really improved. Bobby trusts him to work in the shop alone and even offers him a beer with dinner sometimes, which he always refuses. Not a drop of alcohol in his system for seven months.

He had to make things right, for sons, for Sam and Dean.

"I can trust you to run this garage while I'm gone?" Bobby said, more as a question.

John nodded once in reply, "Course."

Once Bobby left, John worked quickly on all of the cars that needed fixing, sparing no extra time for a break, finishing a whole day's work in only a few hours.

Stepping back and admiring his work, he rubbed the sweat off his forehead with the back of his hand, sighing loudly.

He'd finished everything he'd needed to do, even doing some extra cleaning up around the house, knowing Bobby would appreciate that. And when he was completely done, he went upstairs to take a long shower, watching as car oil and grime rinsed from his hands and his skin down the drain.

He even freshly shaved and combed his dark hair back away from his eyes.

He put on a fresh button down shirt and nice pair of pants, making sure his clothes weren't wrinkled or dirty and when he was all dressed, he made his way down to the living room, where he found a clean piece of paper and dug around for a working pen.

It took him a good hour to write all that he wanted to, all that he could put in words and then he was ready. He folded the paper until it was tiny square of white, and placed it on the kitchen table.

Silently, he walked back up to the room in which he slept and dug through his duffle bag, pulling out the red cloth-covered item in his bag. He slowly pulled back the cloth to reveal the shining silver of the handgun inside, gleaming as the sun spewed streaks of gold across its body.

"I'm so sorry I've been away for so long boys" he said, his voice weird and hoarse from not using it for hours.

"But don't worry, Daddy's finally coming home."

He blew a kiss upwards and rose the gun up to his temple, closing his eyes and taking a deep breath before slipping his second finger onto the trigger.

For a moment it went completely silent again, and then a loud explosion, followed by the sound of the gun clinking to the ground.

_Thud. Dead._


End file.
